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DAY DREAMS 



A BOOK OF 



Poems and Essays 



BY 



t/ 

JOSIE A. KELSO 



yv6'. ic, 



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CINCINNATI 
ROBERT CLARKE & CO., PRINT 

1S7S 



T5 2.1^1 



COPYRIGHT. 

JOSIE A. KEI.SO. 

1S7S. 



PKEFACE 



I HEREBY dedicate to mj- friends, this, my 
first literar}^ production, returning thanks 
for the words of cheer received from many, 
and trusting that, wliile scanning these 
pages, you may find that there is something 
real in dreams after all, e'en though they be 
day-time musings, penned when the mid- 
night oil burns low. 

And now I leave you, trusting that your 
Day Dreams may be pleasant ones ; knowing 
that if clouds should rise to mar their 
brightness, there is a hand which can lead 
through life's deepest shadow. 

Sincerely Yours. 



CONTENTS. 



PAOE. 



Through Golden Gates, 9 

The Old Cabin, 12 

JBeauti/id, ....... 17 

Lost Treasures, , , . . . .19 

Where the Shadows Fall, .... 22 

Friendship, ....... 25 

Napoleon, ....... 28 

Dreams, . . . . . . .32 

Old Books, 33 

Life's Morning, ...... 35 

The Future, 40 

Omens, ........ 41 

Fart lis Ti-easures, ..... 45 

The Summer Wind, ..... 47 

The Hermit, 49 

Autumn Leaves, ...... 52 

The Slain Soldier, ..... 54 

Reading, ....... 56 

My Journey, ...... 61 

Beyond the Clouds, 65 

The Brave, 66 

The Stories L Heard hy the River Side, . . 67 

Sufumer Showers, ..... 72 

Dewdrops, ....... 75 

Flowers, ....... 76 

(v) 



VI COXTENTS. 

PAGK. 

Sunshine, ..... . . 78 

Life's Joys, ...... 80 

The Snow, 82 

The Old and the New, .... 85 

Faces, 91 

Autumn Musings, ..... 94 

Evening, ....... 97 

The Summer Wood, 99 

When the Millions Slumber, .... 101 

Friendship s Offering, . . . . . 103 

Our Given Task, 104 

Shadows, . . . . . . . 106 

The Dove, 107 

America, . . . . . . . ■ 108 

The Winccup, . . . . . .111 

Our Work will Tell, 1 14 

By Faith, 116 

The Beggar s Christmas, . . . . ] 20 
Going to Grandma's, . . . . .124 

Thinking, 127 

Childhood, 129 

In and Out, . . . . . . 133 

Tribute to Winter, ...... 135 

Flight of Time, 137 

The Lone Grave, ...... 140 

A Priceless Gift, 142 

Clover Blossoms, . . . ' . . .146 

Sold, 147 

Nobody's Child 148 

For What do We Labor? .... 151 

Life, 155 

Evening Scenes, . . . . . 159 



CONTENTS. VU 

PAGE. 

The Crouns We Wear, . . . . .161 

Gone, . . . . . . . . 164 

Air Castles, ....... 167 

A Lost Year, ...... 170 

Yesterday, To-day, and To-morroic, . . .173 
Times Tabids, . . . . ■. . 178 

Words, 179 

Shut Out, . . .■ . . . . 183 

Hope, ........ 185 

Waiting, 185 



DAY-DREAMS. 



THROUGH GOLDEN GATES. 

" Scientiii est poteiitia." 

There's a golden gate wliicli stands ajar, 
Inviting the countless niilTKnis in, 

Who crowd the wa}' \Yith an eager tread, 
All anxious now the prize to win. 

All — did I say? A few stand still, 
And watch the others as they go. 

Like rushing waters of a tireless stream 
That ever onward flow. 

Onward, onward, never ceasing! 

To stop is but to fall — 
And be trampled by the mighty tiirong 

In the dust by the shadowy u all. 

To be lost, and be forgotten — 
Like the flashing meteor bright, 

('•0 



10 DAY-DREAMS. 

Which lights the sky for a moment, 
Then vanishes through the shades of 
night. 

There 's a crystal cup, with a shining brim, 
Tiiat holds a beverage, pure and sweet; 

And every breeze which passes by. 

Its fragrance bears, our sense to greet. 

We reach our hands to grasp it, 

But afar off then it seems ; 
Yet lures us on, though the way be rough, 

With its never-fading gleams. 

There 's a jewel bright, that ne'er corrodes, 

' Tis free from hidden dross ; 
And he who wins, need have no fear — 

His treasure can not be lost. 

But many feet have stumbled. 

When heart, and hands grew weak ; — 
Because the days grow shadowy, 

And winds blew fierce and bleak. 

Only brave hearts ever win 
This jew^el of countless worth. 



DAr-DREAMS. 11 

'Tis not for kings alone to claim, 
ITor inherited from a noble birth. 

Out of poverty's darksome depth, 
Many it has raised to proud estate ; 

And scared tlie wolf from open doors, 
As it entered through the humble gate. 

Caused flowers to spring where thorns 
grew wild; 

For low thatched roofs erected domes ; 
Scattered shadows afar, from dreary spots, 

And hovels turned to palace homes. 

What matter if your hairs grow white. 
As the sands in the stream run down ; 

There's a power yet unconquered, 
If this jewel gleams in your crown. 



i^ DAY-DREAMS. 



THE OLD CABIN". 

Alone it stands, a cabin old, 

Where grow the dense weeds rank 
, . ' and tall. 
The roof is green with clinging moss. 

And the wild vine creeps up window 
and wall. 



The mortar is falling from out the chinks ; 

And the chimney has tumbled down ; 
The old door creaks on its rusty hinge, , 

Weather-stained with streaks of brown. 

, - -.•■ri 

The old elm casts a shadow still, 

That falis aslant the floor, 
And the great boughs swa}^ in the sum- 
mer breeze. 

As they have done so oft before. 

The garden gate is broken down ; 

The fence is leaning too ; 
The flowers have faded long ago, 

That by the pathway grew. 



DAY-DREAMS 13 

The stranger passes on his way, 
With a grave and earnest face, 

Lending not one thought of his 
To the old deserted place. 

Bat farmer " Grey" comes driving by," 
With his ox-team, sure, though slow; 

Hale and hearty, honest, too — 
On his cheek a healthy glow. 

Talking lively all the while 
To the good wife by his side, 

Telling of this neighbor's cows and sheep. 
And that one's acres wide. 

" And thar's the old home-place 
Of honest neighbor Wayne." 

And a cloud passes o'er his pleasant face, 
As he speaks aloud the name. 

" Wall, he was as good a farmer 

As ever tilled the ground, 
And a better hand at raisin' stock, 

Could be found no whar around. 



*' And ' Bessie,' too, was a comely wife : 
er buti 
sweet; 



Her butter and cheese war good and 



14 DAY-DREAMS. 

She helped the poor; attended the sick; 
And all her deeds were meet. 

"But that 'Bill' of theirn was a wild 
one, sure. 

I never liked the lad. 
He ran away to get rid of work, 

And must have come to something bad." 

And thus he talks as the old wheels screak, 
Which carry them on their way — 

To their own happy home on yonder hill, 
"Where they 've dwelt in peace for many 
a day. 

A strange one pauses now, 

In front of the cabin lone : 
There's a look of care on his sunbrowned 
face. 
And he murmurs a word, which sounds 
like — Home. 

For a vision passes o'er him. 
Of boyhood's joyous day, 
When his heart was light as the morning 
air, 
And he trod, unburdened, the sunny 
way. 



DAY-DREAMS. 15 

Again he sits by the old hearthstone, 
And father and mother are there; 

And the sister dear — his boyhood pride — 
With her laughing eye and golden hair. 

Again they roam in the woodland, 

In search of violets blue : 
Or on the verdant sunny slopes, 

Where the daisies thickly grew. 

He goes again to the schoolhouse quaint, 
Where he lisped the A, B, C, 

And learned his first lesson in numbers, 
Feeling wise as mortal could be. 

He walks again in furrows, 

Where he dropped the golden grains 
of corn, 
While the sunbeams lay aslant th' hills. 
Yet damp with the glistening dews of 
morn. 

Then came the heart's w;ild longings 
After the w^orld's bright glitter and 
show. 
And the whispering voice could not be 
hushed — 
That was ever bidding him " 6rO." 



16 DAY-DREAMS. 

" Go from the home that shelters thee I 
Go, though a mother's tears may plead ! 

Go, and the world will honor thee! 
'Tis Fame that man most needs." 

He sought a home in a sunny land. 
The world freely gave of its bountiful 
store, 
The promised famehe knew as his own, 
Yet his heart still longed for something 
more. 

And now he's returned to the land of his 
birth, 

Returned, not as he went, 
ISTot the vigorous, hopeful youth, 

But solemn, and old, and bent. 

His childhood joys have passed away, 
As has passed his childhood home; 

And a wreck of his boyhood's fondest 
love 
Seems the cabin old and lone. 

Three white stones in the distance gleam. 
That tell where fond hearts silent laj^ ; 



DAY-DREAMS. 17 

And he brashes a tear from his suii- 
browiicd cheek, 
As he turns and slowly walks away. 



BEAITTIFIJL. 

Beautiful faces smiling sweetly, 

Scattering sunshine where they go, 
That brightly shines as a glittering gem. 

Entering places dark and low. 
Beautiful faces, ever hovering 

O'er the couch of pain or death, 
Lending comfort to the weary. 

E'en when floats the last faint breath. 

Beautiful eyes, gleaming brightly ! 

I see the light of heaven there ! 
Who Avould dream they e'er were mois- 
tened 

By the dews of earthly care? 
Beautiful eyes that look in pity 

Where the sorrowing dwell, 
Speaking from their silent depths. 

Of a beautiful soul they always tell. 



18 DAY-DREAMS. 

Beautiful liuiids, so willinir and ready 

To lift the veil of care, 
To pluck the thorns, wherever they grow. 

And scatter roses there. 
Beautiful hands that smooth the pillow 

Where lies the weary head, 
Beautiful forms, that lightlj- move 

Around the sulierer's bed. 

Beautiful feet that tread earth's pathways ; 

]^ot where rank and riches dwell, 
JSTot in halls of joy and mirth, 

Where the notes of music swell. 
But wherever duty ealleth. 

They are ready to obey — 
In the darkness of the midnight. 

At the morn, or through the day. 

Yes, beautiful avgeh dwell below ! 

A few the Lord hath given. 
To cheer us on the darksome way, 

And light us home to heaven. 
Each, I know, can think of one 

Who ever hovers near. 
And sweetly speaks with voice so soft 

That drowns each risino; fear. 



DAY-DREAMS. 19 



LOST TKEASURES. 

I met a cliild on the dnsty road; 

His face looked grieved, and his head 
bent down ; 
His eyes were red from weeping; 

And it saddened me to see a frown 
Where not but sunbeams e'er sliould play, 

Where not but smiles s^hoidd linger long 
And liear a murmur from rosy lips, 

That should part to trill only merry 
songs. 

I paused, when I crossed his path, 

To inquire into his childish grief, 
Thinking mayhap some word or act 

Might prove itselt' a blest relief. 
He looked straight up into my face — 

" Why need I tell you ? "—then he said, 
"I've searched in every fencerow, along 
the standing hedge. 

But I shall never find it;" and again 
he drooped his head. 

" I know I should have spent it, 
For a marble, or a lig; 



20 DAY-DREAMS. 

But thoiight to keep it long, sir, 
And get more when I was big. 

But now its hidden in the sand, 
And not again will I have anj-; 

1 tossed it so, from hand to hand, 
O, sir, I've lost my penny ! " 

I smiled at his simple statement, 

Yet entered into his ciiildish sorrow — 
N^ot different quite from vexations of oui^s, 

The troubles they say we borrow. 
Yet they seem so heavy and burdensome, 
too. 

That we bear them, not uncomplaining, 
TJl^ the steep way so rugged, and rough. 

We sometimes feel our strength is wan- 
ing. 

I gave him another, bright and new, 
And he smiled as he took it from my 
hand. 
And grasped it tight as he walked away ; 
Yet a longing look I saw in his face, 
for the penny lost in the sand. 
It's ever thus in this life of ours. 
We grieve for joys that are lost ; 



DAY-I'REAMS. 21 

And rich, new gifts can ne'er recom- 
pense 
For those our hands so rnthlessly tossed 

Over tlie hedgerow, among the weeds, 

That hide them from our sight; 
And we search in vain, 'till weary we 
grow. 
And the day fades into night. 
We searcli in vain ak)ng life 's strand 

For pearls we scattered wide. 
But they rolled away with the golden 
sand, 
And were hastily drank by the thirsty 
tide. 

Oh ! for the flowers that faded 

When crushed 'neath heedless feet, 
Till their incense floated on every breeze. 

In vapory clouds, unseen, yet sweet. 
There's a sad unrest in our souls to-day 

For gems that are lost, and we can not 
find : 
We knew not their worth till we'd cast 
them away ; 

To all their beauty our eyes were blind. 



22 DAY-DREAxMS. 

We know we ne'er can find them, 
Till we enter the gateway tlirougb, 

Where a hand has [tlaced them safe away 
In a casket rich and new. 



WHERE THE SHADOWS FALL. 

Where do the shadows fall ? 

In the silent haunts of the dark, green 
"wood, 
Where the great boughs meet with a 
friendly touch, 
N^or strife nor confusion e'er intrnde? 

Where the restless ferns gently fan the 
breeze, 

Like elfin wings, so airy and light, 
Then droop as a spirit bowed in grief, 

When fades the day-smile bright? 

Where do the shadows fall ? 

In the valleys low, beside the stream 
Of shaded waters that never tire. 

But merrily ripple, dance, and gleam — 



DAY-DREAMS. 23 

With no glad eye to admire, 

No thrilling voice to praise, 
Except the huntsman, as he cools liis brow, 

Dreaming the while of boyhood days — 

And the babbling stream so far away, 
Which mnrmurs onward still, 

As it did in the haj)py days agone. 

When it turned the wheels of the old- 
time mill ? 

Where do the shadows fall ? 

Ill the church-yard, silent and cold, 
W^here the white stones gleam in the fair 
moonlight, 

Standing as sentinels, true and bold? 

Where do the shadows fall ? 

Do they ever enter the palace grand. 
Where beauty and art are in full array, 

Fashioned and typed by wealth's pow- 
erful hand? 

Enter thou in, then ask thyself 
If shadows have ever been there ; 

It seems tlicy 'd hurriedly vanish 

From the presence of grandeur and 
beauty to fair. 



24 DAY-DREAMS. 

But bush ! step lightly as yon go ; 

Faint let your footfall be ! 
Ilark ! I hear a sigh — a inoan — 

And faces sad I see ! 

Faces that anxiousl}' hover o'er 
The conch where a lored one lies, 

Whose s[)irit has made its last struggle, 
For closed are the beautiful eyes. 

A mother kneels and kisses 

The brow of her cherished boy. 

While the father, in silent agony, 

Grieves at the loss of his earthU' jo3\ 

A dark, dark clond has fallen 

Upon that happy home, 
And its shadow long will linger 

O'er hearts now sad and lone. 

Bat I will not stop or linger ; 

I '11 go abroad to see 
If there is not nook or flowery dell 

Where no shadow e'er will be. 

I sae young faces, pure and sweet. 

Yet they bear too plain the marks of 
care. 



DAY-DREAMS. 25 

For all too soon the spoiler came, 

I know, for the shadows have fallen 
there. 

Ah, whither I go, 't is ever the same, 
It seems that my spirit might gather 
delight 
From the beauty I see, and the music I 
hear. 
But, alas ! 'tis lost in the shades of 
night. 

I find that I stand in a gathering mist ; 

From its presence I never can tiee ! 
But visions sweet yet linger to tell 

Of a haven where shadows will never be. 



FRIEI^JDSHIP. 

Friendship — true, unassuming friend- 
ship — exercises a sweet and hoi}' influence 
o'er our beings, adding new graces and 
charms to life, which enter into, and be- 
come a part of the living self, beautifying 



26 DAY-DREAMS. 

the soul, and causing it to shine with a 
dazzling radiance. 

A true friend ! — priceless gift ! 

Dive not to the ocean's depths, to pro- 
cure gems of beauty with which to adorn 
life ; for, so sure as the shadows gather at 
eve, there will come a time when such 
■will cease to charm, and the hearts long- 
ings refuse to be satisfied by the glitter 
of gold or diamonds rare. They will 
seem only as so many unpolished pebbles 
from sandy wastes. 

The eye sometimes grows weary of too 
much dazzle and glitter ; but the soul 
never tires of that sweet sympathy — 
friendship's oifering. 

Beautifully shines friendship's golden 
chain ! But I sometimes think the links 
of which it is composed are too few. 
There is too much cold selfishness in our 
world. We are all children of one parent. 
And He has created for us a peaceful 
abode, and adorned it with much beauty 
and light. But do w^e all dwell together 
in unity ? Do we feel a sweet good-will 
toward all mankind? If so, 'tis well. 
Too many of us monopolize much of our 



DAY-DREAMS. 27 

time in studying society's wants and 
wishes. We think if we can only please, 
and become a favored one in that varied 
circle, we have gained a much-wished 
boon. 

But is the possession worth the labor 
of retention '( When adversit}^ comes, 
will society fly to our aid on willing wings 
— or will she stand coldly staring, at a 
measured distance, in the back-ground ? 
Ask thyself! Opportunity will give an- 
swer. And I fear it will be one of icy 
coldness. 

Friendship is an attraction toward that 
we admire or love. It is almost univer- 
sally true, that friendships most lasting, 
or the strongest attachments, spring up 
between those natures of entirely differ- 
ent mechanism. I have noted this, but 
have neither studied nor asked the cause. 

How good it seems to meet with one 
who can understand, or see us in our true 
light. 'T is seldom that we do meet such 
an one, and our deeds and actions are oft 
miscomprehended by our many associates. 
For our best aims or endeavors we oft 



28 DAY-DREAMS. 

receive from the world an unmerited re- 
buff. 

Friendship improves the peace, and ex- 
pands the joys of life. It is the most 
sacred of all bonds. 

In forming new ties of friendship, maj' 
we ever be mindful that not the truest 
hearts beat 'neath the folds of silk or 
velvet, but many noble beings walk here 
clothed in raiment coarse and homely. 



I^APOLEON. 

What greater man e'er lived than he? 
Great, yet not in the sense of goodness. 
For who can call that good which seeks 

only power to conquer ? 
Conquer, not to save the right, but to 

satisfy the soul's desire — 
To quench the lire that burns within. 
And rages like a loosened fiend! 
Personal glory he sought, he found — 
He won, to lose — he rose, to fall ; 
His life, was like a surging wave, 
That never rests, but higher rolls. 



DAY-DREAMS. 29 

Throwing afar its feathery spray; 
Dashing madl}' against the vessel's prow, 
When black clouds hang over th' ocean 

deep, 
Like a cnrtaiii dark, shading heaven's 

gleam, 
That shines on still, neatli its murky fokls 

outspread. 
Shall we call him true or false? 
He w^as true in war, alone. 
What name but false would so well express 
That genius — a greater never given — 
Used only to place self high above his 

fellow men. 
Commanding praise for glorious deeds. 
E'en though the marks of blood 
Were stamped upon the greatest of all. 
His nature of metallic mold 
Ne'er was touched by pity's spell; 
And ne'er fell upon his marble heart 
That tender feeling which aw^akes the soul 
To know its childish weakness. 
And lean upon a power, unborn 
Within man's bosom, e'er deiiled. 
He knew not love, for ambiiion''s spell 
O'erbalanced all it ever tells 
Of that nobler feeling to mortals given. 



30 DAY-DREAMS. 

To elevate, to beautify, and place the 

possessor 
Where truth and honor glorify, 
O, sad that looman's heart should have 
Worshiped at that awful shrine. 
Carved from stone, with adamantine walls 
That toppled, tearing the clinging vine, 
From the strength to which it closely 

cleaved, 
And left it trailing in the dust, 
Bruised and broken — bleeding, crushed — 
That his name might live forever, 
And France rejoice at her sovereign peer. 
"France, and Napoleon united for aye!" 
His name will resound throughout ages, 
And awaken admiration for the possessor, 
Who stood in battle, as itone have stood; 
Who founded nations with a fearless hand ; 
Who gained bright laurels for his brow, 
But lived to see them torn therefrom, 
And trampled in the dust by proud 
England's haughty feet. 
O, mighty was the fall ! 
And fierce was the gathering storm 
That raged in that haughty bosom. 
When fettered became that boundless will, 
A prisoner on a lonely isle, 



DAY-DREAMS. 31 

Where guards his every movement 

wutclicd ; 
All exile from his native soil — 
His life a living death became. 
The great waves dashed against the shore, 
When the storm-king raged with might; 
But they only mocked his tortured breast, 
For they were free — no chains to bind. 
Did he welcome the message, vi^lien at last 

it came, 
And bid him prepare for his last great 

battle ? 
They say the night was dark and wild. 
When friends knelt round his dying 

pillow. 
The few that his stern heart cared to 

own — 
The few that loved the fallen great. 
He dreamed of battles fierce and wild, 
On Austrain fields so red and gory ! 
Of broken ranks, and armies maimed. 
And hosts that fled before the French- 
man 's sword. 
He dreamt of scaling Alpine heights — 
With an army brave and strong — 
Whose snow-capped summits looked afar 
O'er nations conquered by his sword. 



32 DAY-DREAMS. 

"T ete d'Armfee," he said, as his eye 
grew dim and his voice grew w^eak, 

And the kingiy look from his face w^ent 
out — 

He sank on his pillow cold and still; 

Conquered at last was his iron will. 



DREAMS. 

Dreaming, dreaming, ever dreaming ! 

While the hoars glide swiftly on ; 
Dreaming in the peaceful morning — 

Dreaming in the shadowy dawn. 

'No spell or power of earth can call me 

From my happy dreams ; 
And life's darkest hours are lighted 

By their heavenly beams. 

Far above the storm-king's terror, 
They bear me onward still ; 

When the mighty winds are raging ! 
And the thunders speak His will. 

High above the ocean's raging. 

They carry me safely to lands I love ; 



DAY-DREAxAIS. 33 

And I stiuid on foreign mountain peaks, 
And gaze on floating clouds above. 

How much of life is real ? 

I sometimes think 'tis all a dream ; 
Tije golden moments glide so swift 

Adown the murmuring stream. 



OLD BOOKS. 

N"ever, never throw a book aside, 
branded as worthless, because it has be- 
come grirae.hy age. What! wouhl you 
discard one who has been a true frien.d 
in by-gone days, because years have 
changed the outAvard appearance — well 
knowing that the heart and mind are yet 
the same ? 

•"Ah ! no," you say. Though age has 
set his seal upon face and form, there is 
little change. The soul still possesses its 
former charm — that which first drew you 
toward it in love and friendship. "]!^o, 
no!" you can not forsake that friend. 
Then why forsake that other — which. 



34 DAY-DREAMS. 

though it does not breathe, possesses life ? 
Life — not cariiate — but life which means 
knowledge; that which illumes the mind 
witli a light inextinguishable. And for- 
get not the hours of pleasure it has af- 
forded 3'Ou, as you pondered o'er its then 
smooth pages, gaining priceless knowl- 
edge, and advice of great worth. Per- 
haps it was the tirst to instill into your 
mind ideas which have since led you to 
the seat of honor and fame. Then spurn 
it not; but tenderly mend its worn pages, 
as you Avould lieal the wounds of a clier- 
islied friend. And inasmuch as it has 
enlightened you, recommend it to others, 
before that other arrayed in gilt and pur- 
ple, of whose merits you know but little. 
And, surely, it is worth a place on the 
first shelf of your library. 



DAY-DREAMS. 35 



LIFE'S MORmi^a. 

The suiisliiiie falls in golden showers, 

Scattering its glory everywhere; 
Each path is strewn with fairest flowers, 

That sweetly breathe on the mornino- 
air. 
Myriads of glistening gems gleam forth, 

Not yet stolen by the sunlight's ray — 
Transient gems, and yet of worth — 

Hiding their gleaming at approach of 
day. 

Fleecy clouds are moving fiist 

Through the azure of the sky — 
But phantom forms that soon are past ; 

Born so frail and quick to die. 
The music that I hear is sweet. 

As wafted on the breeze afar, 
All earth's willing ones to greet, 

Waking joys by its unseen power. 

Many pure founts are bountifully spring- 
ing, 
Gushing in beauty from the heart's 
deep well ; 



86 DAY-DREAMS. 

Their crystal waten>freely fliiio-ing 

Till tliey fall on some soul like a mys- 
tical spell. 
And so it is, that, in life's morning, 

Tlie face is lit by the power of love, 
And keeps its brightness e'en to the 
dawning — 
Aye, carries it home to tlie world above. 

But the morn is fading fast away; 

Day follows closely her tracks, e'en 
now. 
Though in vain we beckon her to stay; 
While the sun is nearing the hill's fair 
brow. 
But are we idle all this time, 

As we drink in beauties not yet grown 
old, 
And marvel at nature's works sublime, 
And her tales of wisdom so wonder- 
fully told? 

Surely, hands and mind are emploj'ed. 
Culling the blossoms, absorbing tiic 
dew. 

Gathering jewels — pure, unalloyed 

JcAvels of brightness that ever seem new\ 



DAY-DREAMS. 37 

No room for idlers in the Held 

Of busy workers here. 
We must plant in the morn good seed, 

If a harvest we'd reap at the closing 
year. 

'T is the time when Ambition burns in the 
soul, 
Whispering of Fame's great power; 
Bidding : " Go on to thy cherished goal, 
And receive at last thy waiting dower." 
But many castles are erected that fall, 
Though they seem so grand, towering 
high ! 
And a golden gleam, from their turrets 
tall. 
Shines like a star in the far-off sky. 

We write onr names on the sandy beach ; 
But the tide comes in, and where are 
they ? 
We strain our eyes the impression to 
reach. 
But it 's mingled with waters and borne 
away. 
Then life's morn seems e'en most shrouded 
'i^eatli a somber veil, 



do DAY-DREAMS. 

And the sk}^ is densely clouded — 
-All its brightness growing pale. 

When youth's first fond dreams are 
blighted, 
'T is hard to submit to the power of 
fate, 
Seeing onr w^orks by the whole world 
slighted, 
As we stand outside, and they bar the 
gate. 
There are many lessons of submission to 
learn, 
To a will so great and strong; 
There are paths to be sought, and paths to 
be spurned — 
Pleed well thy footsteps in life's morn ! 

I saw a youth, whose eye was gleaming 

With Ambition's quenchless fire ; 
In whose heart was constant dreaming 

Of mounting steps that would lead him 
higher. 
I saw a man who had gained a name, 

That rang throughout tiie land ; 
He stood on the highest round of Fame, 

And nations moved at his command. 



DAY-DREAMS. 39 

I saw a sinner, weighted down 

With a burden more than he could 
bear ; 
And I knew by his face, with a darksome 
frown. 
That his heart was lieavy with constant 
care. 
For as onward glided fast the years, 

Swiftly by the current borne, 
Nor Fame, nor Ambition could drown 
his fears — 
He'd sought no guide in the early 
morn. 

If we start aright, with God's law for our 
guide, 
And shun the evil as we go, 
We '11 come out sure on the sunny side, 

A reward of worth to know. 
"When the shadows gather, and tlie heart 
has grown old, 
And we hear a voice from the river's 
brink. 
Calling for His " Hundred Fold," 

We may cross the stream, and from 
life's fountain drink. 



40 DAY-DREAM 



THE FUTURE. 

O, would some secret power reveal 
The mysteries hidden in the morrow ; 

Lift the vapors that conceal 

The light or gloom, the joy or sorrow. 

It seems the heart might then prepare 
To sup the sweets, or taste the gall, 

Kor wilt heneath a load of care, 
Though heavy he the fall. 

'We gaze in vain to pierce the veil 
That shades the land of mj'stery ; 

'No voice to utter the untold tale, 
That Fate prepares for you and me. 

Each day is like a printed leaf — 

We read, then wait to glean another; 

Though some may seem in shadows 
wreathed, 
And often try our wits to hother. 

"We'd fain turn to the volume's end, 
And sec how the storv would close ; 



DAY-DREAMS. 41 

Know how the liglits, and shadows blend, 
How thick the thorns grew 'round the 
rose. 

What is now, and what shall be 

Our lifetime legacy, — 
Whom to trust, from whom to flee, 

Where lingers most resplendency. 

ISTot the poet's pen, nor tbe prophet's 
tongue, 

T]"uthful]y may say 
What lies beneath the curtain, hung 

To veil the coming day. 



OMEl^S. 



The morn is fair as Eden's light, 

The sky is clear and blue. 
The flowers blush 'neath coronets 

Of glistening gems — the early dew. 

The great green slopes of the far-oft' hills 
Seem smiling back to tbe sun. 

And praising him, in language sweet, 
For th' goodness he lias done. 



42 DAY-DREAMS. 

The sea is calm and. still, 

But tlie waves moan soft and low, 
A solemn dirge for the silent ones, 

Who long have slept in th' darkness 
below. 

There's just one cloud in the far-ofl:" west, 
That is edged with a golden gleam ; 

But so light and airy 'tis, 

It seems more like a fading dream. 

A gallant ship is launched from shore, 
Her white sails spreading wide. 

As she swiftly moves before the breeze ; 
Oh ! ioell may they call her " The 
Ocean's Pride!" 

The freight she carries is priceless — 
Fond hearts that beat with joy and love, 

And faces illumed by visions — 

Reflections bright from the world 
above. 

ITow hands wave back a last farewell 

To loved ones on the shore, 
While hope smiles yet her sweetest smile. 

Banishing the thought — " Shall we 
meet no more ?" 



DAY-DREAMS. 43 

But on she glides with swiftness, 

Till faces, forms, and all seem like glim- 
merings of the past ; 

And the fairy cloud in the far-off sky 
Is growing dark, and spreading fast. 

Hark ! a distant rolling sound is heard, 
Like the mighty cannon's jar. 

And lightning leaps from pillars dark, 
Shooting its fiery darts afar ! 

The waves seem mad as they higher roll. 

Rudely tossing the gallant ship. 
Ah ! pale are the brows of the trembling 
crew, 
And frightened whispers pass from lip 
to lip. 

Another sun rose bright and fair. 

Lifting from earth and sea night's 
somber veil ; 

But the waves moaned softly a recpiiem. 
O'er forms and faces still and pale. 

The sea was calm and still; 

But the waves moaned, soft and low, 



44 DAY-DREAMS. 

A solemn dirge for the hram and fair 
Whom the storm-king had anchored 

helow. 

"Who would have thought on last glorious 
morn, 

With omens of promises sweet, 
That tilled each heart with joy and hope, 

A fate like this they'd meet ? 

There's one beacon of promise that necer 
fades, 
It appeared as an omen in the olden day, 
And told to the children of Bethlehem, 
That a King, and Savior in the mani^jer 
lay. 

He tries his chiklren in many ways, 
Yet shows his nierc}', sweet to all ; 

He smiles behind the darkest day 
That falleth like a funeral pall. 

Then, why shonkl we murmur or sigh? 
The clouds will pass and leave ns to our 
fate ; 
And forever will be one glorious day, 
When we stand on the shore by the 
Golden Gate. 



DAY-DREAMS. 45 



EARTH'S TREASURES. 

Tliey sing of pearls from out the deep, 

And treasures from over the sea; 
But the echo seems as a hollow sound — 

It bears no music for me. 
I ask not ivealth to make me blest, 

Xor jewels rich and rare, 
Nor precious stones of countless worth, 

To decorate my hair. 

For there are treasures far moi'e bright 

Thiin Golconda's purest gems ; 
Treasures which we 'd better own 

Than heir a diadem. 
If sweet contentment ever dwells 

In bosoms full of love and truth. 
The soul can never grow old by age, 

But ever bears bright marks of youth. 

Oh ! what's a form of stately mold. 

Or face of beauty rare. 
If til' heart beats not with a kindly throb, 

And ■'other's sori'ows cease to share? 



46 DAY-DREAMS. 

The noblest souls must know some grief, 
To farrow the face and bow the form. 

Alas, if then all beauty died — 
The only treasure gone ! 

If friendship's golden link but binds 

Hearts no earthly power can sever, 
Oh ! who would ask a brighter gift. 

To beautify the soul forever ? 
I^ow, who be you who 'd give that 
friend — 

That steadfast friend, in weal or woe — 
For all the gold the earth contains. 

Or the wealth th' world could show? 

And, Christian ones, you 'd not exchange 

The soul's pure peace, I trow, 
For the stately throne th' monarch fills, 

Or the crown that decks th' queen's 
fair brow. 
And, mother hearts, would you give 

That first sweet lisping of your name 
By the gentle cherub on your knee, 

For th' topaz's, or th' ruby's flame ? 

"Ah, no!" that smile of love does say, 
" Keep, keep your gift of gold ! 



DAY-DREAMS. 47 

3I\j treasures are not sacli as tliej-, 
Eut far too precious to be sold." 



THE SUMMER WIND. 

The summer wind breathes softly 

O'er sleeping vallej^s low, 
Snatching from their swaying stems 

Flowers of the brightest glow. 

Scattering them o'er the meadows, 
Dro])ping them in the stream, 

Where they glide so swiftly down the 
tide, 
And vanish as life's happiest dream. 

Bearing sweetest fragrance 

From vineclad Southern bowers, 

W^here all the days are snnny, 

And chilling frosts claim not the hours. 

Bearing strains of music, 

Sweet from a joyful heart ; 
The deep, ricli melody gladdens my life, 

And from its spell I would not part. 



48 DAY-DREAMS. 

Kissing the cheek of the happy child, 
Leaving a glow of beauty there; 

Carrying afar its rippling laugh, 

And playfully tossing its sunny hair. 

0, balmy summer breeze ! 

Whis[iering in the })ines, so mournfully 
low, 
I would that I could see thee, 

For thou art beautiful, I know ! 

But too S0071 you '11 pass away ! 

When the summer days are o'er, 
The howling winds will take j^our place, 

As they've oft done before. 

But carry my spirit away with thee — 
Away to thy Southern home. 

Where no wintr}^ blasts do ever blow. 
And never, oh, never, I 'd roam. 



DAY-DREAMS. '49 



THE HEEMIT. 

He dwelt alone in an humble cot 

That his hands had reared in a secluded 

spot, 
By the side of a riv^er, whose waters clear 
Murmured the same tune from year to 

year ; 
Where tall weeds grew thick and rank — 
Untouched by sickle — on the shady bank, 
Where wild flowers waved in the summer 

breeze. 
Sought by none but the busy bees, 
Or tourists, who oft would spend a day 
In rambling or fishing, to chase care 

away. 
He dwelt all alone ; no kindred nigh, 
If any he had. Many wondered why 
He chose a life so drear and lone, 
And had wandered far from his native 

home, 
If any he had ; yet they dared not inquire 
Concerning his home — e'en his kindred 

or sire. 



50 DAY-DREAMS. 

He 'cl converse quite well on the news of 

the day, 
But if asked of himself, would gaze far 

away, 
As if to recall some scene of the past. 
And would frown, as o'er some difficult 

task. 
But not one clue by Ms lips revealed; 
Some secret lay in his heart, well sealed. 
And I wondered what hand held the key, 
That securely locked his life's mystery. 
Or was it lost in the ocean deep, 
Beneath the waves that never sleep ? 
Do you ask, " Was he old, and feeble, 

and bent. 
With both youth and fortune well nigh 

spent — 
Who lived on the alms that charity gave V 
As oft she does, her credit to save. 
He craved no alms, no favors asked he ; 
But his mien plainly said, "just let me be, 
ITor questions ask concerning my life — 
What cares the world if 'tis peace or 

strife ! 
What care 1 for the world to-day? 
From all her wiles I 've torn away, 
And sought to dwell in quietude ; 



DAY-DREAMS. ' 51 

If yc'd please me, let not your presence 

intrude." 
His form was neither old nor bent, 
But care to bis face bad a seriousness 

lent ; 
His hair knew naught of winter's frost, 
But its soft waves were by breezes tossed. 
And I wondered if fairy hands had e'er 

smoothed down 
Those silken locks of goldeu brown ; 
If eyes had answered love to eyes 
That were clear and blue as summer 

skies. 
Were there hearts that missed him 

around some hearth — 
Hearts that loved and knew his worth — 
Hearts that grieved while he wandered 

far, 
But to call him back would^ seek some 

power ? 
Did the eyes of a mother shine soft as 

day, 
And gleam with tears, in some home far 

away ? 
And who JiUed his place in life's great 

field ! 



52 DAY-DREAMS. 

And what were tlie fruits his harvest 

would yield ? 
But mj queries were vain, and light as 

air 
Tliat floated away, like a sinner's prayer. 
And I left him to dwell in his lonely 

abode, 
While I traveled on in life's dusty road. 
But I know whate'er of ills may come to 

me, 
I neoer will seek a hermit to be. 



AUTUMN LEAVES. 

I gather — I gather the Autumn leaves ; 
They lay in heaj^s like garnered sheaves; 
Where'er my feet wander they lie thick 

in my path, 
For the north wind spake in a voice of 

wrath. 

The}' obeyed his injunctions, and fell to 

the ground ; 
Brightly they mantle hillside and mound ; 



"day-dreams. 53 

They fly in the air, hke hirds of bright 

plume, 
Then fall to the earth — aye, sink to their 

tomb ! 

For soon the Winter snows will fall, 
And wrap our earth in its purest pall ; 
'Twill hide all brightness from our sight. 
And fill our lives with the shade of 
night. 

I watclied them bud in the soft, sweet 

spring. 
When the blue-birds and robins did 

sweetly sing ; 
And I loved so well each joyful lay, 
Yet I dreamed not that spiingtime would 

pass away. 

Where'er my feet Avandered new beauties 
sprung, 

And bountifully— freely— Kature's trib- 
utes were flung; 

But, ah! they have faded— springtime's 
buds and flowers — 

They passed away with the fleeting hours. 



54 DAY-DREAMS. 

But memories sweet they left to tell 

Of beauties sweet that dwelt in woodland 

and dell. 
I miss their light in my rambles to-day; 
I miss the smile that has faded away. 

But, oh ! I love the Autumn leaves, 
Yet they 're fading — they 're fading — and 

my spirit grieves ; 
And I gather them up from vallev and 

bill- 
When the snow falls, tliese will be beauti- 
ful still. 



THE SLAI^ SOLDIER. 

From the bloody Held they bore him, 
And they laid him down to die, 

All alone in a stranger's land, 
Beneath a sunny kSouthern sky. 

Ko kindly hands were there 
To smooth his dying pillow ; 

Alone be passed from earth away, 

Alone he crossed death's darksome bil- 
low. 



DAY-DREAMS. 55 

Afar oft', in a ISTortherii home, 

Kind hearts were waiting day by day, 
For their dear and only k)ved one, 

Wliom the drams had called away. 

Called to fight for freedom's cause ! 

Called to fight for country dear ! 
Called away from home and kindred. 

To a bloody field most drear. 

Yet he went with brow so radiant — 
A lieart so full of trust in God ; 

A heart all brave and true — 
True to his own dear native sod. 

But, ah ! that niothcr's yearning and anx- 
ious look. 
As she sat by the casement from day 
till day. 
Looking and waiting for his return. 
And never ceasing for him to pray. 

" Yes, he will come, I know full well ; 

He said : ' Sweet mother, meet me 
adown by the gate, 
As you used to, mother dear. 

When from the hearth I lingered late.' " 



56 DAY-DREAMS. 

And she had gone, for many eves, 
When heaven's dews were falling ; 

And all the passers-bj' that way 

Could hear her for her loved one call- 
ing. 

Until that gentle bine-eyed one 
Who knew a sister's love — a sister's 
grief — 

Would kindly soothe her anguished soul, 
E'en when her own knew no relief. 

There are many green monnds in that 
sunny land, 
That were rudely marked " Unknown ;" 
But sad are the hearts that wait to-day 
For the soldier boj's that ne'er came 
home. 



EEADIXG. 

Often do we hear the complaint, and 
have to submit to the criticism, that we, 
as a people, devote too small a portion of 
our time to reading. 

I, for one, am ready to stand in defense 



DAY-DREAMS. 57 

against the charge. America is full of 
literature, of foreign, as well as home au- 
thors. And what other soil can hoast of 
more book-worms than she? The mid- 
night oil burns low, not only in the li- 
brary of the scholar, but so also on the 
desk in the counting-rooms of our clerks, 
whose time is so precious, and thirst for 
knowledge so great, that it keeps active 
the brain, and banishes all weariness or 
thought of slumber. 

Then what is the fault ? Why is it we 
are found to be ignorant upon subjects of 
so much moment? Subjects of which 
we should have a thorough knowledge, 
but upon which we are each day being 
picked to pieces, as it were, and found 
hollow. 

The trouble lies not in the neglect of 
reading, but in the how and the what we 
read. First, I will take the how, and pen 
the answer immediately after. Carelessly. 
Reading, like each other employment, 
should be done with care, if we expect 
to be benefited thereby. 

Too many read for the pleasure it af- 
fords at the time being, without a thought 



58 DAY-DREAMS. 

of retaining anything for future pleasure 
or profit; but the animation will soon 
pass awaj, and the time emploj'ed is 
the same as lost. Why is it that tlie 
fairy tales we read in childhood are still 
so vivid in our memory, while later-day 
reading we tvy in vain to establisli and 
retain? 

Only reflect for a moment, and the 
cause will stand out plain before you. 

How did we read then ? And was it 
wdien the mind was harassed by a score 
of other topics, and had not room for the 
acceptance of more ? No ! Our childish 
interest was all in the volume before us. 
We drank in each word — though we often 
stopped to spell out some of the harder 
ones — and they sank down — down deeply 
— and are safe to-day as when the in- 
spiration was upon us. 

There are times when the mind is in 
no fit condition, and has no inclination to 
retain anything. Let us not then strive 
to force upon it ideas it will not accept, 
or, if accepted with reluctance, will soon 
have flown into realms unknown, and 



DAY-DKEAMS. 59 

leave behind only a few faint glimmer- 
ings. 

But the what is of as much, if not 
more, importance than the how. 

Let a careful observer look over some 
of our home libraries, and he will proba- 
bly brand half the reading-matter worth- 
less. 

Parents should select with great care 
the literature which they place before 
their children. What they read has as 
much to do with their after-life and la- 
bors as do the friends with whom they 
each day associate. 

The mind of the young is like an hun- 
gered appetite, and must have food to 
satisfy its longings. If there be no 
healthful nourishment in proximity, it 
will readily absorb that which will e'er 
long prove to be poisonous. 

The mind of childhood is the tenderest, 
holiest thing this side of heaven. Yet 
the tender reed is easily bended — aye, 
broken ! Then, ye parents, watch well 
thy precious charge, lest something un- 
holy or impure may leave an everlasting 
impression to mar all its natural beauty. 



60 DAY-DREAMS. 

A child may be bronglit up in almost 
perfect seclusion, but, if he has had access 
to good reading-matter, is prepared to 
enter society, and it is surprising how 
natural and composed he seems. By 
reading, he has become familiar with the 
ways and customs of the world, and they 
seem not at all new to him. 

Our reading should be varied. We 
should not study English authors to the 
utter neglect of American writers. 
Neither should Ave devote all our time to 
historical or political matters, and take 
no notice of romance or poetry. He 
must be, indeed, a matter-of-fact individ- 
ual, who takes no delight in a story beau- 
tifully illustrated — though some of the 
finest features may be drawn by the hand 
of fiction, or beautifully gilded by the 
dreamer's pencil. 

Nothing more plainly illustrates our 
dependence upon each otlier, than our 
love for each other's language. In books 
we learn new ideas of which we have 
never thought; and yet they seem to be 
just what we have been longing for and 
searching after. The more knowledge 



DAY-DREAMS. 61 

we gain, the more wc long to possess. 
One new idea opens the Avaj into a broad 
tield, through which many more are in- 
vited to enter. And yet the space never 
becomes filled. But if we keep care and 
discretion as sentinels at the entrance, we 
will become more interesting to our 
friends, better adapted to society, and 
better Christians. 



MY JOURNEY. 

I walk where shadows linger 

Like phantoms newly born, 
The which my eager eyes pursue, 

As they're chased by the gleams of 
morn 
That hasten o'er the Eastern hills 

With a sure and quickened pace, 
Shod in golden sandals, 

And with a clear, unclouded face. 

I Avalk where sunshine glimmers 
Like golden gleams sent down, 

As showers of gladness scattered wide, 
To banish every frown. 



62 DAY-DREAMS. 

I walk where fairest blossoms smile, 
And breathe a fragrant breath; 

"Where rosebuds open wide their eyes, 
Nor speak of chill or death. 

"Where grasses wave, and mosses grow ; 

Where babbling streams run by. 
Dancing, gleaming, merrily singing, 

Nor stopping ever to utter a sigh. 
Where Summer sheds her welcome light, 

Bountifully, freely over all, 
Nor dreams of blight or cruel frost. 

That waits beyond the wall — 

Which stands so grim and stately. 

Hiding what's on the other side; 
But leaving, for my eyes to scan. 

Fields and meadows spread out wide. 
The day is fair, need I dream of the mor- 
row, 

Or the mysteries hidden 'neath her veil ? 
She may bear for me rich, bright gifts, 

Or e'en a sigh— a wail. 

But I'll drink a draught from the crystal 
cup 
I carry to-day in my hand, 



DAY-DREAMS. 63 

Though the chilling breath of the eoming 
day 
May scatter it in fragments on th' sand. 

I walk mid a noisy, bustling throng, 

That hurry and jostle, the while 
My eyes take in the many tales, 

Told by faces, frowns, or smiles, 
Of many burdened and happy lives; 

Though no further can I go 
Into the volume tightly sealed. 

Its contents ne'er for me to know. 

I wander through dark alleys, 

So narrow, lone, and dim, 
Where homes are only hovels, 

Opened wide to vice and sin. 
I hurry onward, onward fast, 

And close my ear to the cry 
Of rude and awful revelry 

That greets as I pass by. 

I hurry onward, onward fast, 

Till I reach a broad and dusty road ; 

My feet seem weary now, and lag. 
And I'm conscious of a heavy load 

That I 've borne quite long, not knowing, 
Until I 've weary grown ; 



64 DA -DREAMS. 

'T is sheaves I 've gathered unawares 
From seeds my hands have sown. 

But onward, still, tliough th' way be 
rough, 
And the hills I climb are craggy and 
steep. 
And the manj^ thorns by the wayside 
growing 
Leave painful wounds, and deep. 
Onward still with the mighty throng. 

That pauses not on the way. 
For the journey must be completed. 
Ere night shuts out the day. 

The road divides into many paths; 

Some lead to the left, and some to the 
right, 
And I wonder long whicli one to take. 

For each seems dark, yet bright. 
I stand as lost in a gathering mist. 

That falls o'er woodland and neighbor- 
ing hill ; 
And I reach my hand for that guiding 
power. 
That can save by its own great will. 



DAY-DREAMS. 65 



BEYOND THE CLOUDS. 

Beyond the clouds is the Beautiful City, 

The city of fadeless light; 
There, the sun with hrightness forever 
shines, 

And there cometh no darksome nio-ht. 

Beyond the clouds dwell heautiful angels, 

."With crowns of shining stars; 
And all is happiness and peace, 
In that land so far from ours. 

Beyond the clouds our friends are waiting 
To welcome their loved ones home. 

As they sing their joyful praises 
Around the heavenly throne. 

Beyond the clouds, the Savior dwells 

And he hids us "hasten on." 
We're traveling to that world of light 

Soon will come the glorious dawn. 



66 DAY-DREAMS. 



THE BEAYE. 

I love the brave, the daring brave, 
Who fight with will the right to save; 
Who buckle on the armor bright, 
And stand, not trembling, in the fight. 

I love the brave who live to-day ; 
I love the brave that have passed away, 
I love to think of the noble work 
Done by hands not known to shirk. 

I love the brave, the silent brave; 
I proudly stand beside their graves, 
And drop a tear, while my heart beats fast 
In love for them, though their day is 
past. 

I'll plant bright flowers wherever they 

lay. 
O, would that they 'd bloom till " the last 

great day," 
And shine as emblems o'er their dust — 
Emblems of deeds all noble and just. 



DAY-DREAMS. 67 

There are brave ones now in rude dis- 
guise, 

"Who hide the dew that woukl dim their 
eyes ; 

And smile to cheer the burdened life 

Of a mortal known to toil and strife. 

I love the brave, the daring brave, 

Who labor noio the right to save ; 

With brows unlaureled though they 

stand, 
They are the truest, noblest band. 



THE STOEIES I HEARD BY THE 
RIYEKSIDE. 

A maiden stood by the river's side. 

For she loved the murmuring waters 
clenr, 
Loved to watch them dance and gleam, 

And leap o'er falls without a fear. 
Loved to muse on the pebbly shore. 

And gather sliells from the sand; 
Shells that the tide had gathered up, 

And widely strewn with a bountiful 
hand. 



68 DAY-DREAMS. 

Loved to pluck the lilies fair, 

Which grew near the water's brink, 
And smiled at their own reliection. 

As thej stooped o'er the mossy bank 
to drink. 
She stood where breezes fanned her check, 

That glowed with the warmth of youth ; 
And lier hair, in ringlets wikly tossed, 

Seemed like golden threads, in truth. 

Her eyes gleamed bright, as she softly 
trilled 

A love-song low and strangely sweet, 
Dreaming the while of her hero brave, 

As the hour sped on golden wings so 
fleet. 
I asked: " 0, maiden, tell me now, 

What says the river's voice to thee? — 
That you hie so oft to its shady banks. 

With a spirit glad and free ? " 

" The river's voice for my soul has charms, 
For it speak in a language none else 
knows, 

And enchants my life wnth a tale it tells. 
While onward still it flows. 



DAY-DREAMS. 69 

It tells of life with pleasant paths, 

Where flowers bloom through all the 
day, 

And never frost does come to blight, 
ISTor Winter their beauty to steal away. 

It tells of sunny azure skies, 

Where no cloud comes up from east or 
w^est, 
But the sun goes down in glory, 

Leaving the hills in a bright garment 
dressed. 
It bids " Look out o'er the ocean wide. 
Where a brave ship plows the foam." 
I anxiously gaze till the eve comes on. 
For that ship now brings my lover 
home. 

His manly form on the deck I see. 

For I know he watches day and night. 
And his ^^ Maud" shall be the first he 
greets, 
When that brave old ship heaves into 
sight. 
The bridal robes are waiting. 
Anxious hearts are waiting, too. 



70 . DAY-DREAMS. 

.But 't is sweet to watch and wait, 

For hearts that time has proven true. 

*^ jjC i^^ ^f' 'i^ ^ 

I went again to the river's side, 

After golden Summers had flown away, 
And th' years in their round had brought 
to me 
Many glad morns — many a sad noon- 
day. 
I saw a woman on the shore, 

Her form was clad in a somber dress ; 
She vacantly gazed o'er the waters bright, 
"While her hand was raised, and to her 
pale brow pressed. 

The breezes played in her beautiful hair; 

Where silver threads in the sunlight 
gleamed ; 
And the far-ofi" look in her anxious face 

Plainly told that her spirit dreamed. 
I asked, "O, woman, tell me now. 

What says the river's voice to thee f — 
While the waters dance in the fair sun- 
light. 

Then bound away so glad and free ? " 



DAY-DREAMS. 71 

"The river's voice my soul makes sad, 

For it awakens dreams of the past. 
Hark! hear ye not that roaring sound? — 

'T is the fury of the coming blast! 
Black clouds gather in the West; 

See ! see! they rise still higher now." 
And her dark e^'es shone with a fiery light, 

While both hands clasped her brow. 

"Oh ! the ocean is mad, and the waves roll 
high. 
And the ship, I know will be lost; 
For the masts break down 'neath the 
storm-kings touch, 
And only a hull by his breath is tossed. 
And my lover on board that very ship 1 
See ! see! she sinks 'neath the main — 
And my hero so brave with his manly 
heart 
Goes down to ne'er rise again ! 

"Oh cold are the billows that cover him 
o'er. 

While he sleeps in a watery grave; 
Oh ! a^uel the power that slew his youth, 

While no hand was there to save." 



72 DAY-DREAMS. 

Now faded are the blossoms 

That were to deck his bride, 
For the day came, and the guests came, 

But listless she stood, with no lover by 
lier side. 
Oh ! sad is the river's voice to-day, 

As its waters hurry on to the sea; 
And I would that its mnrmur might carry 
away, 

The spell which memory casts on me. 



SUMAIER SHOWERS. 

The leafy boughs are bending. 
The flowers droop their headi^ 

And some of the leaflets tremble and fall? 
Down low on their grassy beds. 

The great king of day is hiding his face 

Behind a darksome veil. 
And his bright glad smile, that has shone 
since morn, 

Is fast growing dim and pale. 

The day is dark, the clouds hang low, 
No blue sky can I see ; 



DAY-DREAMS. 73 

M}^ heart is sad, I'm ill at ease, 
And weary as I can be. 

I hear the rolling thunder's voice, 

As it sounds afar in the Western sky; 

And tlie air grows close and dense — 
The while the clouds go hurrying by. 

But now-, oh, falls the pure, pure rain — 
Blest gift from a hand Divine. 

Sent to cheer the drooj^ing flow^ers 
That in each pathw^ay shine. 

Coaxing the rosebuds to unfold their 
leaves, 

And blush in the ftiir June light, 
Till childish hands shall pluck them, 

To weave into garlands bright. 

They cool the weary pilgrim's brow. 
As he plods on the dusty road. 

With a faith that show\s the way is sure, 
And lightens his burdensome load. 

I sit and luatch the clear cool drops. 

As they tick against my window-pane; 

And I'm always soi-ry when they cease, 
For I love the music of the rain. 



74 DAY-DREAMS. 

But as I speak the clouds break way, 
And the rain drops cease to fall; 

The glorious sun, shines out again, 
And a change has come o'er all. 

The crj'stal drops on the rose's breast, 

Seem as diamonds glittering bright; 
And the ferns and mosses are decked in 
pearls. 
That gleam and sparkle in the sun's fair 
light. 

The robins sing in the tree tops, — 

It seems the sweetest song 
Of all the merry minstrels 

That to th' woodland choir belong. 

Now I feel that the burden is lifted 
That weigh'd on my soul for an hour. 

For I've felt God's love, and I've seen 
His smile, 
As I watched the summer shower. 



DAY-DREAMS. 75 



JDEWDROPS. 

Beautiful devvdrops, diamond briglit! 
Did a fairy drop you in his hasty flight? 
And did he grieve? Now do you know? 
Crystal dewdrops, purer than snow ! 

Beautiful dewdrops, diamond bright ! 
Did you light the fairies through th' 

darkness of night? 
Or shine as a gem on some elfin brow ? 
Beautiful dewdrops, tell me now. 

Beautiful dewdrops, diamond bright ! 
'No lovelier vision could greet the sight, 
Than the flowers bedecked in your glis- 
tening gems, 
As they sway upon their fragile stems. 

You kiss the brow of the lily fair. 
And leave your beauty imprinted there; 
You rest in the heart of the fragrant rose. 
And on its breast sink to repose. 

Beautiful dewdrops, diamond bright ! 
Morning gems, born of the night ! 



76 DAY-DREAMS. 

Soon the sunshine will drink you np, 
And drain to naught your crystal cup. 



FLOWERS. 

Sweetflowers ! bright, beautiful flowers I 
sent to gladden each pathway with their 
cheering presence. Springing up in dark- 
some spots, showing that no place is so 
desolate, but that some beauty lingers 
around. Showing that no place is so se- 
cluded, but that the e^'e of One sees, and 
his bountiful goodness is not withheld 
therefrom. 

Go not into conservatories, where rare 
plants rear their prond heads, and gor- 
geous flowers, brought from foreign coun- 
tries, and carefully tended, bud and bloom 
to scatter their fragrance only so far as 
ivalls will allow. But go fortb into open 
fields, and be greeted by the brightness 
that invites you. Not rare blossoms, but 
simple wild flowers, nod and smile, scat- 
tering their perfume far and near. They 
are as jewels strewn by the wayside. 



DAY-DREAMS. 77 

"When the weaiy traveler stops to rest 
and refresli himself in the shade of some 
friendly tree, the}" speak to him words of 
cheer; and 'tis with a lighter heart he re- 
sumes his journey. They beautify our 
earth, making it appear as a bright garden. 
"What would earth be without flowers? 
'T would be as a heart devoid of love or 
sympathy. A barren waste. When the 
frost robs us of the lily, the rose, and the 
smiles of all their companions, 'tis then 
we realize their worth, and look forward 
with anxious hearts, till Spring shall again 
call them to open their eyes and make 
glad the heart of man. "We find them by 
the sick bed, where loving hands place 
them, that they may shed their cheering 
influence over the meek sufierer, whose 
now powerless hands will ere long gather 
fadeless blossoms. And in the silent 
churchyard, where they shine as love's 
last oflering. 

" Tell me, oh tell me, lovely flowers, 

"Why do ye bloom so fair?" 
"To lighten, my love, the dreary hours, 

And sweeten the cup of care." 



78 DAY-DREAMS. 

" But why do je fade, oh, gentle flowers ? ' 
"By cold winds cruelly slain, 

That we may spring, in brighter hours, 
And blossom and smile again. 

'' So thou in thy youth, ray gentle child, 

Will spring up in golden bloom, 
But soon will the storm or the tempest 
wild 

Smite thee down to the dreary tomb; 
But thou shalt arise in beaut}' fair — 

To a happier clime make wing — 
And blossom in heaven's eternal air. 

Like flowers in a brighter Spring? " 



SUNSHINE. 

Bright and beautiful sunshine. 

How you cheer my drooping heart! 

I can not be sad in your presence, 
For you bid each fear depart. 

Just like sweet sister Hope, 

You come where I need you most; 

A welcome guest you'll always be. 
And I'll try to be a cheerful host. 



DAY-DREAMS. 79 

I believe you know when ray heart is sad, 
And life seems dark and drear: 

For then it is you steal gently in, 

With your bright and gladsome cheer. 

A friend you are to the friendless. 

The lowly, ami the poor. 
Brightly you scatter your golden beams, 

And freely they enter the humble door. 

The children love 3'our bright presence, 
And they welcome yon in the spring; 

For you wliisper to the flowers, 

And bid the birds to " come and sino-." 

The innocent babe, ou its mother's knee. 
Joyfully catches your brightest beams, 

Thinking 'tis the angel's smile 
It saw in its peaceful dreams. 



80 DAY-DREAMS. 



LIFE'S JOYS. 

There's a beauty iu life, exquisite and 

grand, 
'Tis the fairest picture from a Master 

hand ; 
With the brightest tints from a pencil of 

gold, 
And silver shades, — nor grow dim nor 

old. 

'Tis like a vision, transient and sweet, 
That hurriedly speeds on Time's nimble 

feet ; 
The day begins — then hastens away 
Gives place to calm eve, but short is her 

stay. 

I love to watch the lingering beams, 
Which o'er the hills in beautj^ gleam; 
As amber cloads pile high in the West, 
Clothing the sky iu a golden vest. 

A reflection bright, from beauties untold — • 
The city with streets of jasper, and gold : 



DAY-DREAMS. 81 

Where the Eiver of Lite flows on forever, 
Its tireless music, ceasing never. 

Or in the peaceful star-gemmed night, 
Whose arch is ever polished bright, 
'T is sweet to gaze on beauties afar, 
And dream of joys fadeless as the bright- 
est star. 

I see fair faces with a rosy bloom, 
That smile away each rising gloom. 
And others o'ercast by the veil of care, 
Yet so beautitul, I see not the furrows 
there. 

I walk in sunshine's golden shower, 
And bask 'ueath Summer's vine-clad 

bower ; 
0, I love the transient beauty well, 
It charms my life with its mystic spell. 

But the golden hours, with radiant wings, 

are swiftly, swiftly flj'ing ; 
And earth's childrtn, ne'er content, are 

ever, ever sighing 
For some pleasure not possessed. 
And new joys to calm the breast. 



82 DAY-DREAMS. 

O ! but to queueli that restless strife, 
Which e'er embitters the cup of life ! 
Oh! to quencli that ceaseless yearning, 
Ever in the botsom burning. 

They say wlien we reach the " Golden 
Shore;' 

We'll drink deep bliss ne'er known be- 
fore, 

From a cup whose brim is polished and 
new, 

And sweet with the nectar of heavenly 
dew. 



THE SNOW. 

The snow, the beautiful snow ! 
It lies in my path wherever I go ; 
All earth is chid in purity now. 
From the valleys low to the mountain's 
brow. 

I watch the busy, careless throng. 
As they heedless plod along — 
Heedless where their footsteps go, 
But leaving marks in the pure w^hite 
snow. 



DAY-DKEAMS. 83 

iN'ow, there comes a childish form, 
A face of brightest sunshine born, 
That sweetly smiles as it bows low, 
Trying to count the tracks in the snow. 

Ah, happy one, that trial is vain, 

As well could you count the dn)ps of 

rain. 
That fall from summer's darkest cloud, 
When tlie thunders speak so loud. 

But may yo^ii^ foot-marks ever be 
Where honor and duty calleth thee; 
And may j'our young feet ever know 
Only })aths as pure as the virgin snow. 

I^ow comes manhood's stately form, 
Heeding not the wintry storm ; 
Heeding not the flakes that fly 
From the bleak and dreary sky; 

Fly, on airy wings of light. 
Clothing earth in spotless wliite. 
Where his hasty footsteps go. 
Treading careless on the snow. 

May thy deeds be ever just, 
And thy heart all free from lust ; 



8-1: DAY-DREAMS. 

May that strong arm raise with might 
To defend the cause of right. 

May thy brow Avith honor sliiiie, 
E'en when furrowed by old Time — 
When thy cheek has lost its glow, 
And thy hairs are white as snow. 

See, that bowed one standing there. 
With the wearj-, vacant stare, 
Holding out his shriveled hand, 
Begging in a plenteous land ! 

Shivering, as the winds goby. 
Almost blinding his long dim eye. 
Did some one love him in the long-ago ? — 
That old man begging out in the snow. 

I ask myself as I look at him. 

With garments tattered, and worn so 

thin— 
A sorry shield for his feeble form, 
As be stands their trembling in the 

storm. 

Yes, a mother loved him, sure. 
When an infant guiltless and pure; 



DAY-PREAMS. 85 

But (lid slie dream that begging lie 'd go • 
All, "t is well that she sleeps beneath the 
snow ! 



THE OLD AND THE NEW. 

Well, I've been to meetin,'in the big 

chnreli on the hill ; 
'T is many a day since to meetin' I've 

been, thongh I try to do the Master's 

will. 
But you see old age fell as a cruel blight, 
And injured my hearin', my -svalkin', and 

sight. 

So, when the old bell rang, to homel must 

stay, 
And kneel all alone, and alone I must 

pray. 
But so sadly I missed each dear old song, 
Which rang in my ears the whole week 

long. 

And the kindly words of our minister 

dear — 
Did ye ever hear them ? AVhy, they 'd fill 

your soul with a lifelong cheer! 



86 DAY-DREAMS. 

He spoke sweet words of our liome over 

there, 
And the happy meetiu' when we'd done 

with earthly care. 

He invited his people to Christ's blessed 

fold, 
And no sinner Avas left alone in the 

cold ; 
He'd draw them right up b}^ the power 

of love, 
And show them the path that would 

lead them above. 

But that was years and years agone; 
Hushed forever is each dear old song, 
There's more white stones in the yard 

near by. 
Where rest the weary that have ceased 

to sigh ; 
The minister and deacon both sleep 'neath 

the sod. 
Their dust — their spirits — are happy with 

God. 

The old brown church, that for years had 

stood, 
And proved to be both useful and good, 



DAY-DREAMS. 87 

Why, it was blown down by a storm, one 

night, 
It gave the villao^ers an awfnl fright. 



Some mourned its loss as a dear good 

friend. 
While others declared 'twas, "ablest God 

send;" 
/ on]y said, " Thy will be done," 
I marvel at nothing under the sun. 

They erected a new one in the same old 

spot — " 
My dear good John helped buy that lot; 
But now 'neatli its sod lie peacefully rests, 
I know he'd have liked tiie old churcli 

best. 

But, as I said, I've been to meetin,' in the 

big church on the hill ; 
'Tis many a day since to meetin' I've 

been, though I trv to do the Master's 

will ; 
But, you see, old age fell as a cruel blight, 
And injured my hearin',my walkin', and 

siorht. 



50 DAY-DREAMS. 

Sit down, now, beside- me, and I'll tell 

you how it came. 
The morn was bright, the birds sang sweet, 

and somehow I felt not so lame, 
And my eyes they seemed more open, 

which so long had been so dim ; 
And I thought, how sweet 'twould be, to 

liear a good old fashioned hymn. 

So I laid out my new pongee, I'd not 

worn for twenty years. 
But it brouglit a sadness to my breast, and 

caused my eyes to fill with tears: 
For when I wore it last, I walked to 

church by dear John's side. 
And happy was I tlien as the day I 'came 

his bride. 

My hymn-book had grown dim by layin' 
on the shelf, 

Though to me 'twas dearer far than all 
eartlily wealth ; 

My girlhood name was written, plain as 
well stamped brand, 

Jist on the first white page, by my de- 
parted husband's hand. 



DAY-DREAMS. 80 

As my tottcrin' feet drew near the great 

empaneled door, 
My feeble e^'es were dazzled by new 

sights not seen before. 
Why, do n't you think the steeple towered 

nigh nnto the sky ! 
And I wondered how the bell was heard, 

when hanging up so high. 

Oh! there's room for mnch religion in a 

bnildin' so grand and new, 
I said nnto myself, as near the steps I 

d rew ; 
Then I entered through its portals, and 

started up the aisle, 
Thinkin' how different from the old one — ■ 

thinkin' all the while. 

I went right up in front, where my pew 

had always been, 
But anotlier tilled my place and refused 

to let me in ; 
But the sexton came up kindly, and took 

me by the arm, 
He led me farther back, as though afraid 

I 'd do them all some harm. 



90 DAY-DREAMS. 

Eut then I thought, 'tis right, I'm a 

stranger in this phice, 
And, though alone I sit, I '11 share with 

them God's grace; 
So I opened then my In'mn-book, and 

thought I'd raise my voice. 
In a good old-fashioned tune, that would 

make my soul rejoice. 

" O for a thousand tongues to sing my 

great reileenier's praise," 
Was the song I turned to Jii'st, and there 

my voice I raised, 
Which was no longer feeble, but rang ont 

louder, higher, 
When the minister arose and said, " We'll 

have music by the choir." 

Well sich music as it was! it roused no 

happy feelin', 
And it seemed their many voices rose no 

higher than the ceilin' ! 
All my peace of mind and soul seemed to 

go out with that song. 
And I wondered has God entered into 

this mighty throng? 



DAY-DREAMS. 91 

The sermon it was short, and half I did n't 
hear, 

For a sadness tilled mj heart, and a deaf- 
ness filled my ear; 

Then they all stood up to pray, but down 
J humbly knelt — 

Not too proud to bow to Him, though a 
lone one there I felt. 

Yes, I 've been to meetin', in the big 

church on the hill, 
'T will be many a day till to meetin' I go, 

though I'll try to do the Master's will. 



FACES. 



"How fast the flitting figures come! 
The mild, the fierce, the stony face, 
Some filled with thoughtless smiles, and some 
Where secret tears have left their trace." 

How many different types of human 
faces we see in our sojourn through this 
busy, bustling world of ours. It is a rare 
occurrence, if we ever see two visages ex- 
actly alike in outline or expression. We 
may meet with one whose face reminds 



92 DAY-DREAMS. 

US of another we have seen, so much that 
we may deem the resemblance ahiiost 
perfect; but when we come to see those 
same faces under the same light, behold 
what a vast difierence we can then dis- 
cern. 

How- true that " the face is the index 
to the souL" It tells of the heart's long- 
ings, its hates, and its loves. 

Try, as we may, to veil an evil deed or 
thought by smiles, that tell-tale some- 
thing depicted upon the countenance 
plainly speaks of the hypocrisy, and 
brands that smile deceptions. 

"What though the apparel may not be 
of the latest cut, and is dinged and 
dimmed by age. The hat may not be 
the last out, and the carriage may not be 
the most elegant. I take no notice, but 
peer into the countenance, to see what it 
will tell me; and I always find it a true 
recommendation of good, or denounce- 
ment of evil. 

Every day we are saddened by gloomy, 
sin-hardened faces, that tell of so many 
stony and depraved natures. 

There is the bold, staring face, that de- 



DAY-DREAMS. 93 

maiids our attention, whether we would 
or not. Deliver ns from such ! 

And the smiling, insidious face, that is 
ever endeavoring to make new friends, 
but does not long retain them. 

IIow different is the sweet face, full of 
confidence, sunshine, and happiness ! A 
reflection of a pure, loving heart, unsul- 
lied by evil. 

Then there is the silly, simpering face, 
tliat speaks of a vain, empty life. It 
bears the same contrast to the firm face 
of scholarly mold. 

Sometimes we meet with a kind, firm, 
sympathetic face, that gains our admira- 
tion from the first. "When we are happy, 
it tenders us a smile ; when sorrow^ is our 
portion, we know of its sympathy by the 
expression of sadness that settles over its 
beautiful features. Yes, always beautiful ; 
no matter of what type — classic or other- 
wise. And that same face can assume a 
firm and decided a[)pearance, which 
seems almost stem, when in defense of a 
good and honorable cause. Happy is he 
who is so favored as to live under the in- 
fiuence of such a countenance. 



94 DAY-DREAMS. 

We can think of many faces that are 
dear to us — yes, and beautiful — which 
perhaps bear no charms to others. Some 
are ros}', childish faces, and others have 
long since lost all their fresiuiess and 
bloom, but no less dear for the- furrows 
that have settled thereon. 



AUTUMX MUSINGS. 

The sweet Summer roses have faded from 

view ; 
And all the bright blossoms that in my 

path grew. 
0, where have they gone with their 

beauty and light? 
Ask of the frost-king who kissed them 

at night. 
He encircled their brows witli glittering 

gems, 
But, alas, at the morn-time they drooped 

on their stems ! 
A calmness now reigns through wood 

and through vale. 



DAY-DKEAMS. 95 

But Summer-time beauties have all grown 

pale. 
The bleak winds of Autumn now morn- 

fully sigh, 
Like a wandering spirit that passes me 

by; 

And fans my brow with wings unseen, 
Hidden from siglit by a mystical screen. 
I grieved as the last low- whisper of tlie 

gentle Summer breeze 
Murmured its softest melody, and de- 
parted througli th' ti-ees. 
Then a voice I heard tliat was sadder far 
Than one that had charmed with its 

sweetest power. 
The Autumn leaves fall trembling down, 
Some crimson-tinged, some amber and 

brown ; 
They clothe the eartli in her last rich 

garb, 
And she 's courted and loved by the 

dreaming hard. 
Each leaf that falls at my feet to-day, 
Seems an image of loved ones far away ; 
And a gentle whisper in each rustle I 

hear, 



96 DAY-DREAMS. 

For friends of my cliildhood ever seem 

near. 
I '11 gather the treasures of crimson and 

brown, 
I '11 weave me a garland and fashion a 

crown, 
For they call memories sweet, to tell of 

the time 
Whea life's song was as joyful as the 

bell's merry chime. 
But hushed is the music of each silver 

note. 
Yet echoes still beautifully 'roufid mem- 
ory iioat ; 
The fields are sear, and the hills are 

brown. 
But tlie bright Autumn leaves come trem- 
bling down. 
October's blest tribute she yearly pays, 
When Summer has vanished with her 

golden days — 
When the harp-strings of iTature have 

lost their rich tune, 
And the birds seek a home as sunny as 

June. 
'Tis a time when the soul will sadden 

and pine 



DAY-DREAMS. 97 

For something more perfect than fruits 

of this clime — 
For joys that will fade not, for charms 

that will last, 
For music that's lost not in sounds of 

tierce blast. 
In the home o'er the " River," beyond 

the bright wall, 
Is Summer forever where the leaves never 

fall. 



EVENINa. 

'T is evening's hour, and all is still ; 

The birds to their nests have flown ; 
And I think the moon, since yester' night. 

Has in brightness and beauty grown. 

She is mounting now the azure sky, 
And earth is made lovely by her smile; 

She proudly sits as a new-crowned queen. 
And gently floats as a fairy the while. 

ISow a fleecy cloud is passing by, 

And it lightly kisses her beautiful brow ; 

For a moment she frowns upon the earth ; 
Offended " Lady Moon," I allow. 



98 DAY-DREAMS. 

The tossing boughs have folded their 
wings, 
The birds are asleep in their dewy nests ; 
The Summer grasses have drooped their 
heads, 
The dewdrops sparkle on the lily's 
breast. 

All nature is calm and still just now; 

The sweetest flowers have their eyelids 
closed ; 
'T is evening's blessed, holy hour, 

But I 'd not yet seek repose. 

The eve of life will ere long dawn ; 
The gathering shadows will warn us 
home ; 
And will Faith shine afar, as that bright, 
fixed star 
I see in the azure dome? 

Or, as the meteor frail, 

Will she fade away in air. 
And leave the way all dark and drear. 

And plunge our souls in deep despair? 

O, may the eve be calm and still ; 
May the curtain gently fall ! 



DAY-DREAMS. 99 

May we, each one, see the city bright, 
And hear tlio Savior's welcome call. 



THE SUMMER WOOD. 

I love the pleasant solitude 

Of gentle stream and shady wood, 

When Summer's sun, with powerful heat, 

Bids me hie to its cool retreat. 

How sweet at Fancy's call to rove 

Through th' pleasant shade of a beautiful 

grove ; 
Or in th' dense forest to lose one's self 
To the cares of earth, and court ISTature's 

wealth. 

With the arms of the giant trees swaying 

above. 
Seeming to point to the God of love. 
Above, around, JSTature reigns supreme, 
And Care seems as a far-otf dream. 
Above is the sky of beautiful blue, 
Below is the earth — it is beautiful, too — 
Bedecked with flowers of every mold, 
Brighter gems are they than burnished 

gold. 



100 DAY-DREAMS. 

The feathery ferns wave at my feet; 
They seem as a spirit gentle and meek ; 
While the balmy breezes from the south 
Kiss my cheeks with a tender mouth. 
The trees are alive with a wild gay throng, 
The wood resounds with their joyful song; 
Then all is still, silence reigns profound. 
From the tops of the trees to the green- 
sodded ground. 

I sit beside the babbling brook, 
While JSTature seems an open book. 
Upon whose pages I plaiidy trace 
Lessons of wisdom and of grace. 
Sweet stories from on high are hurled 
Down to the people of this world. 
Carefully I scan the well-stored pages, 
And the lesson I learn will live for ages. 

Oh, the forest is an holy ground ! 
God's presence there is ever found ! 
Then I'll away to that temple pure, divine ! 
Where His image, I know, will forever 

shine ; 
Where His love, I know, will forever be, 
For all of earth's children, bountifully, 

free. 



DAY-DREAMS. 101 



WHEi^ THE MILLIONS SLUMBER. 

AVhen the countless millions slumber, 
When daytime's labors all are clone, 

And every wish of life forgotten. 
Till shall rise the morrow's sun. 

When tlie shadowy curtain falleth. 
Closing out all toil and strife, 

Bringing sweetest peace to mortals, 
E'en most weary of this life. 

When little hands, all day so busy. 
Lay clasped in fond embrace, 

And lips in silence sweetly smile, 
Pillowed close to another face. 

When the stern and hardened features. 

Of him long known to sin, 
Assume a softer, milder cast. 

Faint gleam of what has been. 

When the guardian spirits hover 

O'er the couch of all, 
Keeping safe the good and guilty. 

Till the morning sunbeams fall. 



102 DAY-DREAMS. 

Still the hand of ITature rests not, 
But labors on through all the night, 

Ever forming marvelous works, 
That are pleasing to the sight. 

l^iffht-time o-ems — we name them dew- 

drops — 
• Kiss the buds, and the}^ then unclose; 
At the morn our eyes are greeted, 
33y the bright and fragrant rose. 

Onward flows the murmuring streamlet. 
Doing still its great work well ; 

Ask the ocean of its mission. 
And its might}' roar will tell. 

Onward glide the hours and minutes, 
Onward to the realms unknown, 

Bearing upward deeds of goodness. 
To the bright and shining throne. 

While the countless millions slumber, 
An eye there is that shines above. 

Guarding us through gloom and shadow, 
With its fadeless beams of love. 



DAY-DREAMS. 103 



FRIENDSHIP'S OFFERING. 

What would I do ? — now do jou ask 
What I would do for those I love, 

The tender bonds to beautify, 
And my constancy to prove? 

Not gold nor gems have I to give ; 

Nor would I prott'er such as they. 
Which charm this life but for an hour, 

Then, as the snowliakes, melt away. 

But I would offer, from my store, 

A kindly, sympatlietic will ; 
A ready hand in hours of need. 

To banish every rising ill. 

Only friendship that is tried 

And proven true is real ; 
Some shining gems of rare design. 

If passed through flames, a dross re- 
veal. 



104 DAr-DREAMS. 



OUR GIYE^^ TASK. 

O, may we work loell our given task, 
With steadfast hands and a willing 
mind ; 
!N^or wish for station of higher degree 
Than the one by God given, though of 
an humble kind. 

They tell of lofty heights, 

"Where the strong and th' great have 
stood ; 
But to climb that rugged pathway steep. 
Some have not courage nor strength it' 
they would. 

Some have gained laurels by daring deeds, 
And our hearts swell big as we think 
of their fame ; 
But, O, let us battle for truth and right, 
Not alone fur a gilded and shining 
name. 

All of earth's children can not wear 
crowns, 
Nor sit on the throne th' monarch fills; 



DAY-DREAMS. 105 

But nobly can they perform eacii task, 
And do the work their God has willed. 

May we not long for hidden paths, 

Which were designed loe should never 
tread ; 
But go straight on with courage and 
faith, 
By an All-wise One so surely led. 

Honor beams as brightly where green 
mosses grow, 

As on til' mountain's highest peak; 
Though th' reflection shines not so far, 

'T is more than courage to the weak. 

There are thorns in our neighbor's path ; 
O, with love may we smooth them 
down, 
And scatter roses and sunshine instead. 
For dark and gloomy is fortune's 
frown. 

Yes, there 's work for us all to do ! 

Then let us not idle to-day, 
For the golden iiours are passing swift — 

They heed not our call to stay. 



106 DAY-DREAMS. 

O, may we Avork well our given task, 
With steadfast hand and a willing 
mind ; 
■Nor wish for station of higher degree 
Than th' one bv God o-iven, thoLisrh of 
an humble kind. 



SHADOWS. 

The Western sky was aglow 

With a crimson and amber light, 
While fleecy clouds, with a golden tint, 

Floated like spirits in garments bright. 
I stood entranced, for I love it well — 

A Summer snnset scene, 
When a hazy light, o'er mountain and 
hill, 

Unfolds like a gauzy screen. 
All others were outside myself, 

I stood as lost, alone; 
For my spirit wandered afar from me, 

And sat on cloudland's highest throne. 
But swift and sudden was its return, 

i!^ot bidden back by my own strong 
will, 



DAY-DREAMS. 107 

For the sunset smile sank low from view, 
And shadows fell o'er woodland and 
hill. 
Thus it is they fade away, 

All life's joys, however bright. 
And wandering- spirits that bathe in bliss, 
Are chased by the gathering shades of 
night. 



THE DOVE. 

O, why so sad is thy song, sweet bird ? 

O, why so sad thy song ? 
I'm sure the day is beautiful, 

And pleasant was the morn. 

And yet thy lay, so mournfully sad. 

Jars upon my heart, 
As the last farewell of a dear, loved one, 

With whom I 'm called to part. 

O, why is thy song so sad, sweet bird. 
When thy forest home is so sweet and 
gay? 

The robin is joyful in the high tree-tops, 
As it skips about in its play. 



108 DAY-DREAMS. 

The squirrel is frisking about iu his glee, 
He joyfully welcomes the Spriug's re- 
turn ; 

But thou alone art sad, sweet bird, 
And ceases not tliy mournful song. 

The greenwood is rife with sweet per- 
fume 
Of Mayday blossoms fair, 
AVhich the children pluck in their ram- 
bles. 
And weave in garlands for their hair. 

But still thy song is sad, sweet bird ; 

Yes, sad, oh sad, is thy song, 
Though the day is bright and beautiful. 

And pleasant was the morn. 



AMERICA. 

America ! O, glorious land ! 

The home of light, and joy, and lib- 
erty. 
Thy children are a happy band, 

That fondly clings in love to thee. 



DAY-DREAMS. 109 

No other soil is half so dear, 
ISTo other sky so clear, so hhie ! 

The flowers that bloom in tJiy gohlen year 
Are brigliter than diamonds, rich and 
new. 

Why do they brave old Ocean's waves, 

And clouds and storms, so tierce and 
wild? 
Aye, often find a watery grave — 

Many a dusk^^-featured foreign child ? 
They hear of the peace on thy beautiful 
shore, 

Where all God's children alike are free; 
They'd share of thy joy's forevermore, 

And labor in love and honor for thee. 

Each breeze that crosses the mighty deep 

Bears a message of promise afar — 
A promise to weary ones ever sweet; 

And th(.*y dream of our land as a rose- 
crowned bower. 
Their weary feet they long to rest 

On a soil that knows no serf nor slave ; 
Where all alike are ever blest, 

And proud of the banuer that over 
them waves. 



110 DAY-DREAMS. 

Thy fields a, battle-ground have been 

Where man}' a brave one fell, 
When our land was rife with strife and sin, 

And thickly rained dread shot and shell. 
I almost think I now can hear 

The dram's sad rolling beat. 
That called brave ones without a fear. 

And hastened them on with Avilling 
feet. 

And it seems I hear the trumpet's sound. 

That signaled for the fight. 
The battle o'er, I see the blood stained 
ground. 
And silent faces, all pale in the sun's 
fair light ! 
High marbles tower above thy brow, 

To tell of heroes slain. 
We think of them with pride, e'en now, 
For th' peace that's ours their blood 
did gain. 

An hundred years have passed away. 
Since our own blest liberty was gained. 

0, where are the brave of that glorious day, 
Who banished the tyranny that long 
had reigned? 



DAY-DREAMS. Ill 

They won briglit laurels that Avill never 
fade — 
A crown whose star can ne'er a:row 
dim ; 
Their dust in the earth long, long has 
laid, 
Yet we sing their praise as a well- 
loved hymn. 

We'll furl our banners to tlie breeze; 

Oh ! long may they wave in air, 
High above domes and lofty trees, 

In skies serene and fair. 



THE WINECUP. 

O, what misenj that word proclaims to 
many ! It sends a death-like shudder to 
the already burdened and sorrowful heart, 
and saddens the merry one that has never 
known care. 

It has blighted our beautiful and ])leas- 
ant w^orld, and filled it with wickedness 
and vice, that would have been unknown 
without its terrible influence. Yet how 



112 DAY-DREAMS. 

many court its bright and enticingc gleam- 
ing, as they do the sniile of a deceitful 
friend, which is only intended as u false 
beacon to Inre them on to ruin's path ! 
"What power does it jDossess, that it can 
wreak so much ruin in our hind? That 
it can call the father from his Ijome, 
and little ones to seek the association of 
the vilest of earth's inhabitants? That 
it can snatch the lanrel from the brow of 
genius, and send its possessor groveling 
as a vagabond upon the eartli ? 

Ay, it does possess power! an awful, 
fiendish power ! And great courage does 
it require for some to battle against that 
power. 

But O, that it could be forever ban- 
ished from our land. A whole nation 
cries out against it! The orphans' tears, 
the widows' moans, and the mothers' 
prayers, plead for its destruction. 

Its sparkle is as Satan's smile, and 
when it enters a home, all peace and hap- 
piness vanishes therefrom. IJicy dwell 
not in its recei)tacle. 

Ko truer picture of its destructive power 



DAY-DREAMS. 113 

could be penciled than the "drunkard's 
home.'' 

O Avhat a sad picture it presents! All 
there is desolate and drear; no silvery 
langh breaks the monotonous gloom. 
And yet, little ones there dwell ; but they 
are not the rosy, bright eyed beings God 
intended they should be. The luster of 
their eyes is dimmed by tears, and the 
roses are bleached from their cheeks by 
poverty's stinging blast. Alas, that their 
young lives should thus be so cruelly 
blighted! There is but a scant crust 
upon the slielf, and yet so many birdlings 
to be fed. 

The fire burns low within the grate, 
and yet the cold wintry blast howls and 
shrieks as wildly in his mad career as 
though all were clothed and well fed. 

Can it be that that sad faced woman is 
the bright and happy maiden who but a 
few years since left her pleasant girlhood 
home, with all its loved associates, and 
at the altar jdiLdited her troth with him 
she trusted and deemed the noblest and 
best? 
And can it be, that that reeling, totter- 



114 DAY-DREAMS. 

ing form tliat enters liis miserable dwell- 
ing with riicle and awful curses, which 
send those little ones cowering from his 
crazed and enraged presence — can it be, 
I ask, that he is the Imsband of that 
gentle though broken-hearted being, and 
the father of those innocent ones? 

Alas, that he should be ! And oh ! that 
80 many lives sliould be made miserable 
and so many homes desolate by that awful 
one, the worst, the crudest, of all earth's 



enemies 



Many green mounds of to-day rise 
above the moldering forms of those wlio 
once bid fair to till stations of honor and 
usefulness. But the tempter o'erpowered 
them in an hour of weakness, and they 
sank under the weight of his destroying 
hand ! 



OUR WORK WILL TELL. 

The labor of our hands to-day 

Will live in 3'ears and 3'ears to come. 

When earthly work we cease to do — 
Saved, in the great eternal home. 



DAY-DREAMS. 115 

If (m]y joys we hope to reap, 

While dwellers of the earth, 
Were our labors best reward. 

And tiresome efforts' greatest worth — 

I fear the heart would cease to hope ! 

The hands would idle grow ! 
And life a blank to each one seem — 

A worthless blank, I know. 

For life's short hour seems but a span, 
And each mortal's race is run ; 

Forgotten, then, by all the earth ! 

If lived not still the works he's done. 

When lips and hands are 'ever still, 
TheyVwe to speak with pride or shame. 

And keep green through all the coming 
years 
A bright or tarnished name. 

O may our deeds be ever such, 

A record good they '11 show, 
When cometh that great silence 

Each one ere long must know. 

0, Faith ! shine thou more brightly. 
Give strength to do the great work well ; 



116 DAY-DREAMS. 

For when our lips are silent 
Our livina: works will tell. 



BY FAITH. 

He knelt in the twilight shadows, 
At the close of a Summer day ; 

His little hands in prayer were lifted, 
And this is what I heard him say : 

" O, Lord, who lives ahove, 

In the great big home where the angels 
dwell, 
Listen just now to Eddie's prayer, 

And hear, O Lord, what he would tell. 

"My name is Eddie Birch, it is; 

I live with old Simon Brown ; 
But I do not love him — now forgive, 

For he gets drunk when he goes to 
town. 

"And 0, he swears so wickedly. 

It makes cold cliills all over me go; 

But no where else do I have to live, 
And 2 'm only a little boy, you know. 



DAY-DREAMS. 117 

"But when I grow to be a man, 

No longer will I stay 
With one so rude, and wicked too, 

That he never thinks to pray. 

"And if he knew that now 

I raised to heaven my voice or eye, 

I know he 'd beat me very hard. 
Until I 'd surely have to cry. 

" My darling mamma died one day. 
When I was very, very small ; 

I know she'd not have left me then, 
But she had to go at thy own great call. 

"And ever since, so lonesome I, ' 
With not a top, nor kite, nor toy — 

I wonder now why I should be 
So lone a little boy. 

"Now, if something I had that I could love. 
Something that would love me too, 

I think that I would happy be, 

And content the whole day through. 

"I listen to the robin's song, 

As I sit for hours, on some moss-grown 
log; 



118 DAY-DREAMS. 

But something that 's all my own I want, 
0, how I 'cl love a brand-new dog ! 

"And I would never sell him, 

And I'd never give him away ; 
But I w^ould keep him always, 

give me a dog, I pray. 

" He must be a new one, 

With eyes glistening bright, 
With a shagg}' tail and silken mane; 

And be must neither growl nor bite. 

" I'd hitch him to my wagon ; 

1 made it all myself; 

And for food I'd give him all the crumbs 
That are left upon the shelf. 

"I'd haul chips and limbs for Widow 
Grey- 
She, too, is very poor — 
And I 'd stack them np in a great big 
heap 
By the side of her kitchen door. 

" Down hills and through the hollows, 
And over stones we 'd jog, 



DAY-DREAMS. 119 

O, would n't we be jolly, though — 
Myselt and brand-new dog?" 

Lord, for the faith of that pure child, 
As he knelt in the twilight there, 

"With a heart so brave and a trust so 
sweet, 
As he breathed his simple prayer. 

0, may tee bear the ills of life 

As patiently as he. 
And may our words and actions too 

From sin be ever free. 

And may sweet Hope still light our way, 
As his through care's dense fog; 

With faith as pure may we ever live 
As when he prayed for his " brand-new 
doff." 



120 DAY-DREAMS. 



THE BEGGAR'S CHRISTMAS. 

The bells were ringiiia: loud and clear, 
The streets were thronged with young 
and gay, ( 

But none stopped to question the hapless 
child 
Who through th' crowd wended its 
weary way, 
None noticed the tear whicli dimmed its 
eye, 
Nor cared that its clothes were ragged 
and torn — 
No time to notice beggars then, 

For 't was a lovely " Christmas" morn. 

A day we always celebrate^ 

A glad and hap}ty day ; 
And we think of the "Christmas" of 
long ago, 

When the Babe in the manger lay. 
The rich man invites the wealthy to his 
feast, 

And they gather around his board. 
With a merry jest and a hearty cheer 

They partake of his bountiful hoard. 



DAY-DREAMS. 121 

Then a prayer is offered — to th' great 
Divine — 
For the saviiio- of souls and eleansinir 
from sin, 
But I think the Savior frowns, and says: 
" My lambs are out ! Ye invite them 
not in." 
Still up and down the noisy street, 

Amid th' throng and tumult wild. 

With faltering steps and a weary heart 

Wandered alone the beggar child. 

In vain she asked for help, 

As she held out her poor little hand, 
But no kindly hearts were nigh, 

And no fairy came with his golden 
wand. 
But a beautiful lady chanced to pass, 

Bedecked in silk and jewels rare. 
At her side was a lovely child. 

With shining curls of golden hair. 

" Mamma, look ! " said the child, " look 
at that little girl. 

Her dress all torn and tears in her eye. 
Let's stop, mamma, dear, 

And see what makes her cry." 



122 DAY-DREAMS. 

But the lady moved on with a quickened 
pace, 
Nor heeded her child nor the waif's 
pleading tears ; 
But Avith scornful look, and a hauglity 
air, 
She said : " Never mind, 't is a beggar, 
m.y dear." 

But when niylit came, a baud of angels 
bright 
Flew down from their homes on high 
In search of a treasure fit for the skies ; 

And did they pass the beggar by ? 
Oh, no ! but folding their wings azure 
light. 
They smiled upon her cold, still form, 
Then, gathering her gently from the 
earth, 
Away through the air she was ten- 
derly borne — 

Till they came to a mansion of stately 
design, 

Where wealth reigned supreme within. 
Where the sound of revelry and mirth, 

Heightened the festivity of sin. 



DAY-DREAMS. ]23 

Thej' halted there in their onward flight, 
And their harps they tnned anew, 

Which liushed the sound of all other 
strains, 
That of earth or earthlj grew. 

A shadow of darkness fell as a pall. 

Over that mansion'so stately and grand, 
And many hearts were saddened then, 

As entered that heavenly band ; 
For the greatest treasure that house con- 
tained, 

They came to Lear aAvay ; 
The beauteous one, with golden hair. 

Was too pure with them to stay. 

Two lambs, the angels bore to the throne 
To crown with glory and light — 

Equal, at last, were those innocent ones. 
Equal in Heaven, that Christmas night. 



124 DAY-DREAMS. 



GOIXG TO GEAXDMA'S. 

We 're going to our grandma's, 

Mamma, iSTell, and I ; 
But papa, he '11 stay home, 

To bid us all goodbye. 

We have lots of nice new dresses, 

Plaid and blue and red ; 
I'm to have a silk some day, 

So my mamma said. 

We have presents for our grandma, 
They always please her well ; 

I drew a picture of oar cat, 
And so did sister Nell. 

She never saw our pussy, 

So I thought I 'd take her too ; 

But papa laughed outright, 

And mamma said 't would never do. 

I think she will be lonely. 

And miss us through the day ; 

Perhaps she'll shed a tear unseen. 
When we are gone away. 



DAY-DREAMS. 125 

Were yon ever to onr grandma's ? 

You say you ne'er were^there. 
Well, I wish that you would go, 

When you've time enough to spare. 

She does not live in town like me, 

Where houses are so thick, 
And crowded all together. 

Stone and frame and brick. 

But there are great bright meadows. 
Spread out so wide and green. 

And flowers bloom so beautifully, 
The prettiest ever seen. 

She has a nice big orchard, 

Where we play and romp and run, 

In the tall and waving grass — 
0, 't is the nicest place for fun ! 

We have a swing in the great pear tree. 
That stands so high and tall. 

But the limbs are stout and never break, 
So you need n't fear you '11 fall. 

Did you ever see our grandma. 
And sit upon her knee ? 



126 DAY-DREAMS. 

And did she tell you pretty stones, 
Like she does to 'NeW and me ? 

Her eyes they shine so brightly 

Through the glasses that she wears, 

And I think the cap is pretty 
That hides her silver hairs. 

She says, "the frosts of years 

Have fallen on her head, 
And time has stolen her roses, 

And left furrows in their stead." 

I do n't know just what she means. 
But I know it 's all the truth. 

And I wonder why a tear -will start. 

When she speaks. of eaviy youth. 

. _ , __ ^,_ „ ^, f.. . . _ ■ 

She always has a pocket-fuTt . , 

Of every tiling that 's good ; ' * 

Iwishyoii 'd go and see her, ^^ .„ ^^^^^j ^-r^ 

You 'd love her if you would. .^ k^^^'V 

She makes the sweetest pumpkin pies, 
Her cakes are brown and nice ; 

She tills the little pans for us. 
And gives us a great big slice. 



DAY-DREAMS. 127 

Yes, we 're going to our grandma's, 

Mamma, Nell, and I; 
But papa, he '11 stay home, 

To bid us all goodbye. 

I think that he and puss 

"Will be lonely through the day ; 
And they '11 shed a tear, perhaps. 

When we are gone away. 



THIXKING. 

I'm thinking to-night of sweet faces 

That now are hidden from my view ; 
For deep is the veil that's drawn be- 
tween. 

And its folds I can not see through. 
I'm thinking how they have faded 

In tha peaceful, quiet morn, 
When th' earth was full of verdure, 

And bright beauty, newly born. 

I'm thinking to-night of beautiful e3^es — 
Some azure, some midnight, some 
brown ; 



128 DAY-DREAMS. 

And again I seem to see tliera gleam, 
Mayhap on me they're looking down. 

I 'm thinking how each hright orb closed 
At th' tonch of an icy hand ; 

Yet I long to behold the beauties they 
see, 
In th' far-off, evergreen land. 

I'm thinking to-night of sweet voices, 

Their music no longer I hear; 
Hushed are their lute-like measures, 

Yet they seem to linger near. 
I'm thinking to-night how sweet they 
must sound — 

The voices of those I love, 
I'll know them, I think, from all others, 

"When I reach the haven above. 

I wonder if they '11 meet me. 

With joy by the river's side, 
"With garments pure and spotless, 

Washed clean by Jordan's tide? 
And will they sound a welcome. 

Proclaimed on harps of gold ? 
And who will be the lirst to greet, 

As I enter in their joyful fold? 



DAY-DREAMS. 129 



CPIILDHOOD. 

Ah, beautiful childhood! Free, inno- 
cent, joyous childhood! Memory still 
clings to thee, though thou seemest as a 
far-oft', happy dream. Who would for- 
get the past delights of life's sweet morn- 
ing? Who would forget the loved paths 
trod in innocence, where sunshine 
brightly gleamed, and the most beautiful 
flowers bloomed ? The light of that 
sunsliine bas not yet all faded from our 
beings, and tbe fragrance of those same 
blossoms seems sometimes wafted back 
on friendly breezes. 

How glad am I that, notwithstanding 
all tlie busy works of life, we sometimes 
find surcease, and tben these reviews of 
the past stand out so plainly before us. 

Our feet seem to again tread in w^ell- 
loved haunts. We sing again cliild- 
liood's joyous songs, and converse with 
friends well loved, though some of them 
have long since ceased to speak in 
earthly language, and have lain aside all 



130 DAy-DREAMS. 

earthly attii'e. Ah, the memory brings 
sadness as well as jo\'. Well, life is all 
sunshine and shadow anyway. And 
even childhood was not free from trouble 
and vexations; though what then seem- 
ed great troidjles disappeared Avith the 
drying of tears which tlten flowed so 
freely. 

First, memory calls us back to the 
time when our infant feet tottered around 
the loved hearthstone, watched and 
safel}' guarded by a gentle mother's care- 
ful eyes and tireless hand. Blest mem- 
ory ! May thy faint impressions never 
be wholly obliterated. 

Then came the wild, glad days of 
romping and roving in field and forest. 
And, still later, the first school-days of 
life ; and with them came our first trou- 
ble. Yes, when we entered through the 
door of that little, old-fashioned, weather- 
grimed building, it was like stepping 
into a field of thorns and brambles. It 
seemed a new life, nevertheless. How 
world-Avise we felt, as we hastened home 
with book in hand, and a glowing coun- 
tenance, to proclaim the glad tidings 



DAY-DREAMS. 131 

that we bad reached a lesson of two syl- 
lables, and could nov) spell just as well 
as anyone. But, oh, how those elated 
spirits drooped, wiien, the next day, we 
were turned back three or four pages to 
accommodate some tardy pupil. Can 
we ever forget how hated he ever seemed 
in our sight? No^ and we do not like 
him yet, though we never have to turn 
back for him now. 

This was only a beginning of our 
school-day trials, and new ones, and 
greater ones, arose each successive day. 
Why would they send one all the way 
down foot, just as he was beginning to 
rejoice at being the highest one in that 
class of tifteen noisy boys and mischiev- 
ous girls ? How cold and lonely it al- 
ways seemed down there. Yes, and one 
was obliged to stand for awhile near that 

idle Tom B , who never was higher 

than second from foot. 

How we disliked that Mary H . 



And whyf I must whisper the reason. 
Sometimes her curls looked more beauti- 
ful than our own. This was when we 
had arrown older. And then Charlie 



132 DAY-DREAMS. 

C , who had been our favorite, since 

the clay he so kindly tied on our hood, 
and drew on our little red mittens, would 
always manage to stand by her, and 
whisper the letters in her ear, when she 
had spent all her time playing puzzle or 
picture making. We have even known 
him to miss words on purpose to get 
near her. Oh, how our envious hearts 
grieved at the uujustice done in that 
noted spelling-class so long ago. 

But we will ever treasure in our 
niemory loved faces of those halcyon 
days. Some have gone out into the 
world, and gained bright honors by their 
worthy deeds. Others have long since 
crossed the river, over to the golden city, 
w^here all is light and love. And others — 
we know not where they are, nor what 
stations in life they fill ; but, with con- 
fiding trust, we look forward to the day 
when we shall meet and know each one 
on the glittei'ing strand. 



DAY-DREAMS. 133 



IN ANB OUT. 

I grieved for the blossoms faded, 
I was sorry that Winter had come; 

I longed to hear the cheering notes 

Of tlie birds that had songht their sunny 
home. 

I thought, oh the frosts are cruel, 
To lay Summer's beauties so low! 

And the leaden clouds looked drear — 
That veiled the sunlight's glow. 

My room was full of shadows 
Like ghosts, unbidden there; 

They entered into my being. 
And reflected shadows everywhere. 

Then I heard the merry voices 
Of the children in the street, 

As W'ith glowing cheeks they passed, 
And a sunny smile to greet. 

Oh, I thought, there's joy out there, 
Though the wind blows fierce and 
wild : 



134 DAY-DREAMS. 

And its sweets 1 too will share — 
Yes, I'll be again a child. 

Not a minute lingered I, 

But hurried on with quickened pace, 
Just in time to meet a welcome 

From a sweet and happy face. 

As tlie ruby lips were parted, 

To proclaim these words of cheer — 

"Oh such fun Ave 've had to-day, 

And I'm glad that Winter's here!" 

" Shadows, leave me ! " then I cried ; 

" There 's no room within for thee ; 
And thou, wretched disconteut, 

I bid forever flee." 

Theu, they both obeyed, right there, 

And I stood a beiug new ; 
The dreary day seemed glad and free, 

And /was happy, too. 



DAY-DREAMS. 135 



TRIBUTE TO WmTER. 

The flower-decked Summer days are 
passed, 

And Autumn, too, has gone; 
But Winter reigns supreme just now, 

And he boasts of snow and storm. 

'Twas sad to see our flowers fade 

And wither at our feet ; 
They cheered us through the Summer 
liours 

With their presence, glad and sweet. 

But Jack Frost is rude and rough, you 
know ; 

His touch is fatal and sure ; 
He spares not the bright nor beautiful. 

The lovely nor the pure. 

The happy birds, where are they now? 

We miss their gladsome song, 
We hear them not at eventide, 

Nor yet at early dawn. 



136 DAY-DREAMS. 

They have flown to brighter, snuiiier 
climes, 

Where the ivy and myrtle bloom ; 
They sing for other ears to-day, 

While our hearts are tilled with gloom ; 

For there 's a grave in the valley drear, 
Where a loved one sleeps to-day ; 

Our hearts were saddened with bitter 
grief 
When that dear one went away. 

They laid him 'neath the cold, cold earth; 

They heaped it above his breast ; 
We shed a tear on the mound of clay, 

And left our darling to rest. 

Fall gently, O ye snowy flakes ! 

Fall gently wdiere he rleeps ! 
Touch lightly the Pod above his head ! 

Pile not in drifts so deep. 

And, ye howling winds, 

Why do ye blow so wnld and tierce ? 
Ye mock our grief in your mad career, 

And our hearts ye e'en would pierce. 



DAY-DREAMS. 137 

And, ye darksome clouds, in the sky 
above. 
You \l e'en blot heaven from our sight ! 
But our faith sees through vour murky 
veil. 
And our orbs are greeted by a beacon 
of light. 

We see th' bright streets of the city above, 
We hear the chorus of the angels' soug, 

We 're journeying onward to the world 
of light, 
We '11 hail with joy the glorious dawn. 



FLIGHT OF TIME. 

Could we but realize the swiftness of 
time, we surely would not allow so many 
unemplo3'ed hours to pass o'er our heads, 
touching them — though nnperceived now 
— with a wand which leaves an impres- 
sion, ere long to be displayed by silvery 
threads. 

We have seen our fathers and mothers 
grow gray and furrowed, and all of Sum- 



138 DAY-DREAMS. 

mer's bloom vanish from brow and cheek. 
The same change awaits each one. 

To-day \\ e stand by the brink of a 
bright stream, and watch the mnrmnriiig 
waters as they flow on and on without 
ceasing. But do we ask ourselves, 
" Wiiere are those who a century ago 
watched, as we now do, the ceaseless 
flowing of the same stream ?" They are 
silent forever. Their lives were like the 
bubbles that vanish under our admiring 
gaze. 

Their work is cU)ne ; their labor o'er ; 

They 've crossed the stream to the other shore. 

Ere long our work will be done. 
may it be ivell done. May we labor hard, 
while it is yet to-day, so when the night 
cometh it may not find and hold us amono; 
the class known as "Earth's idlers." 
Eather may it be " Earth's benefactors." 

We are prone to heed the "siren's" 
voice, and put off" until the morrow what 
should be done to-da_y. 

We are told of two youths who were 
traveling in the East, and came to a beau- 
tiful inclosure, which the}' soon learned 
was the o-arden of " Peace.'' Tliev had 



DAY-DREAMS. 139 

never beheld such beauty as tlieir eyes 
were greeted with, through the openings 
of the high trellis, surrounding a verdant 
plot, where silver fountains scattered the 
spray of their crystal waters o'er flowers 
of rare brightnesHi. They longed to enter 
and partake of the beauties within, but 
the gate was securely fastened, and above 
the archway, in strange characters, they 
traced the following words : 

"Ne'er till to-morrow's light delay, 
What may as well be done to-day; 
Ne'er do the thing you 'd wish undone, 
Viewed by to-morrow's rising sun. 
Observe these rules a single year, 
And you may freely enter here."' 

When they parted they agreed to make 
the trial. The younger failed to come up 
with each iujunction,and soon gave up in 
despair. But the elder, by faith, proved 
equal to the task, and when the year had 
passed sought and found entrance into 
the beautiful garden. 

Shall 2ce, like the lirst, make one eftbrt, 
then let our weakness overcome us, or, 
like the braver one, buckle on the " armor 
of Faith," and at last receive the reward ? 

Let us not loiter b}' the wayside, but 



140 DAY-DREAMS. 

rather move on, with stead\' feet and will- 
ing minds, seeking in thorny paths for 
earth's weary ones, scattering sunshine 
wherever we go, making brighter other 
lives and adding sweet peace to our own. 

The clock is ticking, the sands are fall- 
ing, and the hours are passing ! 

The days are lengthening into months, 
and the months into years. The ilowers 
bloom and then they fade ! 

Alas, if the snows of winter fall upon 
paths trod by idle feet ! If icy fetters se- 
cure the impression of footsteps in forbid- 
den ways ! 



THE LOKE GRAVE. 

']^eath the wild forest shade 

They laid her to rest; 
They heaped the light turf 

Above her young breast ; 
They erected no marble 

To tell of marked fame, 
But on a rude stone 

They carved her loved name. 



DAY-rREAMS. 141 

There the ^yolf howled by night, 

The squirrel sported by day, 
And the gay wild bird 

There sang his sweetest lay ; 
The hoot of the owl 

Sounded dismal and drear ! 
Yet it disturbed not her slumbers. 

For deaf was her ear. 

The red man has fled 

To far distant lands. 
The forests have been cleared 

By industrious liands ; 
The liowl of the wolf 

Has been hushed long ago. 
He was swept from the hind 

By the hand of his foe. 

The lone grave now stands, 

All quiet and still, 
In the midst of a green field 

On the brow of a hill. 
Yet no flowers have been planted 

By kind loving hands. 
For she sleeps her last sleep 

In strano-ers' land! 



142 DAY-DKEAMS. 



A PRICELESS GIET. 

'T was the brightest day, when that sliip 
went forth 
From her harbor by the sea, 
With her white sails spread to catch the 
breeze 
That bore her on right gaUantly. 

She seemed so grand : a noble thing, 

To carry safely o'er 
Her freight of brave and anxions hearts, 

To a bright and verdant shore. 

I looked upon her deck where beamed 

Many faces lit with joy; 
But the fairest one I noticed there 

Was the face of a brave and hopeful 
boy. 

His white brow bared to the summer 
breeze 
That tossed his silken hair. 
And his cheek was bright with a beam 
of hope 
That had gently fallen there. 



DAY-DREAMS. 143 

There was a light in his eje that told of 
the lire 

Whicli burned within his breast, 
And spoke of ambition's mighty spell 

That gave his sonl no rest. 

1^0 gold heired he, nor fortune craved. 
To purchase goods of rich design ; 

But the merchandise was dift'erent far 
lie sought to gain in a foreign clime. 

His spirit soared to a standard high ; 

And Faith lent power, gave strength 
to dare ; 
Above the ocean's mighty roar, 

lie heard a voice, saw a vision fair. 

He dreamed of glories for his brow. 
And it sank in his soul like a mortal 
fire. 
Awakening a thrill in his being then. 
Like lingering notes, swelling soft from 
the lyre. 

He cast his eye on the fading hills, 

"Where sunbeams played at morn and 
eve, 



144 DAY-DREAMS. 

Where oft he 'd roved in boyhood's glee, 
"And must he now tliese loved scenes 
leave?" 

And liis cottage home among the pines, 
The pine's low moaning he loved so 
well, 
Yet it awoke a discontent, 

And had bid him go from woodland 
and dell. 

And seek afar a treiisure gi-and, 

E'en brighter than pearls from the bed 
of the deep ; 

A treasure rich, worth toil to gain. 
But, if once won, quite safe to keep. 

He heard a pray'r, low, soft, and sweet, 
From the depths of a mother's heart, 

And the words slie spoke in accents mild. 
When had come the hour to part. 

They had touched the tenderest chord 
Of Ijis nature, strong and true ; 

And hi.s fiery e3'es had softer grown, 
And his lashes drooped 'neath glisten- 
ins: dew. 



DAY-DKEAMS. 145 

wliat would one not dare to win 
That would honor give to a mother's 

name ? 
In recompense for affection deep, 
Nights of wakino^, d.ij's of pain. 

The very thought gave manhood strength 
To him whose limbs were of boyish 
mold ; 

He stood erect and proudly smiled 
As his heart grew strangely bold. 

He looked again to the far-off' shore, 
That had dim and dimmer grown, 

But the crowd that met had all dispersed, 
Save one form that stood alone. 

He bore that image o'er the sea, 

It cheered him when the storm raged 
wild, 

He heard sweet words above the roar, 
A mother's blessing on her child. 

1 know not if the boon he gained, 

The boon his heart so sought to find, 
But whatever of fame or wealth was his, 
A purer gift he left behind. 



146 DAY-DREAMS. 



CLOVER BLOSSOMS. 

Do yon know why so fondly I love 
them — 

Clover blossoms, pink and white? 
"Why to me they are so precions, 

And to life a dear delight ? 

They bring to my heart fond memories 
Of days that are long since past, 

And joys that were not blighted 
By any chilling blast. 

They speak to me of faces 

Of childhood friends I love, 
And their perfume is as the whispers 

Of those who dwell above. 

Sweet clover blossoms, pink and white, 

In snmmer e'er the same ! 
They whisper to me of past delights, 

And breathe in my ear loved names. 



DAY-DREAMS. 147 



SOLD. 



A few days since we overheard a lady- 
remark that slie was, upon a certain oc- 
casion, " badly sold." We did not stop 
to inquire concerning the price obtained 
by the transaction, but, to judge from 
the merriment of herself and compan- 
ion, notwithstanding the emphasis she 
placed upon the adverb, we inferred 
'twas rather a good than bad bargain. 

Sold ! How many are each day being 
sold ! Yes, selling themselves, little by 
little, until I fear, ere long, some will be 
entirely closed out, with no stock to 
commence anew. Many persons have 
sacrificed youth, with all its capabilities 
of doing good in the world, for the for- 
warding of some ambitious desire, which 
they were prompted to believe, when 
possessed, would even exceed the price 
set thereon. 

Only too late have they found out 
their mistake, and learned that nothino; 



148 DAY-DREAMS. 

craved and obtained by vain selfishness 
can give peace, joy, or happiness. 

Some sell health for fleeting pleasures, 
which [lass away and leave no trace, ex- 
cept furrows and heartaches, to tell of 
their short duration. 



i^OBODY'S CHILD. 

A face as fair as morning's light, 
E3'es that gleam so strangely bright, 
A brow as pure as the lily fair, 
Above which rests bands of golden hair, 

Tied back in a style so plain, unique. 
Tossed by wild winds, fierce and bleak. 
That send a chill o'er her delicate form. 
As she hurries on through th' blinding 
storm. 

The snowflakes melt as they kiss her 

brow ; 
They're no purer than that young heart, 

1 trow, 



DAY-DREAMS. 149 

That throbs 'neath the folds of garments 

worn, 
"Which Time of all brightness has long 

since shorn. 

She hurries on through the gaping 

crowd, 
And the rabble, rude and loud; 
She shrinks as curses fall on her ear, 
And her steps are quickened by the 

sense of fear. 

0, God! that one so faiv and sweet 
The vile and wicked e'er should meet! 
But why is she out in tlie storm so wild? 
The sad winds answer, ^^ She's nobody's 
child." 

She labors unceasing from morn till eve, 
But the harvest she reaps is a scanty 

sheaf; 
At night she seeks lier garret home, 
If home we could call a drear place so 

lone. 

If Jiome we could call a place where one 

sleeps, 
Partakes of a crust, and bitterly weeps 



150 DAY-DREAMS. 

O'er the wrongs of the clay, and th' rude 

rebuti" 
Of emplo^^ers, given in tones fierce and 

gruff. 

Who wipes the tears from her weeping 

eye ? 
Who kisses her brow to hill her sigh ? 
And bids her rest, though the storm 

rages wild ? 
Not one! not one! for she's noboch/s 

child. 

In slumber, she sees a faint gleam of the 

past, 
That seems to have vanished before some 

rude blast ; 
An angel face on her soul is impressed, 
And a form of beauty in bright raiment 

dressed. 

That same face o'er her pillow does 

hover, 
For in fitful dreams she murmurs 

" mother." 

Oh, Thou who waketh when others sleep. 
And over all safe watch doth keep, 



DAY-DREAMS. 151 

Be a guide to her young feet! 

May they never striiy, 

But find and keep tlie "JSTarrow Way ; " 

Submit to Thy will, with a spirit mild; 
Be crowned with bright honors, 

Though she's nobody's child! 



FOR WHAT DO WE LABOR. 

How many of all the vast number of 
earth's inhabitants are to-day endeavoring 
to do good in the world for themselves 
and their fellow-beings? Ah, how few ! 
Perhaps it is well we do not know just 
how few. 

If we knew of all the idle hands and 
minds — idle in good, but active in evil 
designing — perhaps we would lose cour- 
age and our strength would fail us in time 
of the great battle, which requires so 
much fortitude to labor through. We 
may expect our every good deed or aim 
to have an opposing power. And let us 
not look for nor expect justice in this 



152 DAY-DREAMS. 

world, for I fear, if we do, 't will be only 
to i-eap disappointment in the end. 

Whatever we do, let us do with all our 
might, scorning to heed the ridicule which 
is sure to be tendered by the idle ones of 
earth. Some of earth's greatest benefac- 
tors encountered foes of every descrip- 
tion, and yet their patient perseverance 
led them on to triumph. 

If we labor alone for personal reward, 
our efforts, in many respects, prove fruit- 
less ; but if our aims be to benefit man- 
kind and promulgate the sacred cause of 
honor, we will surely reap a rich reward, 
one enjoyable for the fact that it was 
gained, not by selfish aims, but bj' deeds 
of uprightness. 

Some labor a lifetime for fame, with no 
other desire on earth than to become a 
uoted individual. This is their only am- 
bition, their only earthly desire. 

Ah, who can des^cribe man's love of 
fame ? a love that never subsides ; but as 
his years that are passed number more 
than those to come ; as the form bows 
lower and the locks become whiter, grows 
stronger and yet stronger, as rekindled 



DAY-DREAMS. 153 

by the inextinguishable flame of ambi- 
tion. He shuts himself in from the world, 
with all its beauty and pleasures, closes 
his heart to all the love and tenderness 
of earth, and gives himself up to his one 
great passion. And what is his reward ? 
Perhaps his greatest reward is a towering 
marble, emblazoned w^ith words of praise. 
But, O, is such worth the price at which 
it is purchased ? I think not. And how 
much of earth's pleasure and happiness 
is lost to the ambitious laborer. Earth's 
greatest blessings he knows not. Earth's 
brightest treasures ne'er meet his view ; 
and the world's sweetest joys to him are 
lost. 

O, if mankind would labor more for 
fellow-beings, what a different world ours 
would be. Many are to-day treading the 
downward road to ruin, with no gentle 
hand to stay and no tender words to warn. 

God has given to each one of his chil- 
dren some mission of good to perform on 
earth. And if we live in His world, par- 
take of all His bountiful favors, and fail 
to perform that mission, what reward can 



154 DAY-DREAMS. 

we expect, other than an earthly, which 
charms for a season, then fades away. 

The Lord, in His wisdom, created us, 
both mentally and physically, according 
to the statious He intended us to fill, and 
the labor He gave us to perform. 

We should not become disheartened 
because our deeds do uot produce an im- 
mediate effect. JS^either should we mur- 
mur because our stations are not so lofty 
as some others fill. 

We can not all go as missionaries to 
the heathen lands to impart light to 
the uncivilized of God's created beings. 
IsTeither is such required of us. But we 
can be missionaries at home. Our own 
vicinities are rife with evil, which re- 
quires unceasing labor to subdue. Yet 
how many are idle. What wonder that 
our prisons are full to overflowing, and 
so much evil is abroad in our land. 



DAY-DREAMS. 155 



LIFE. 

What is life that one should strive 

For days proloiii^ed upon the earth ? 
Does not the bible tell us true — 

"Man's dying day is better far than that which 
gave him birtli.' 

Life is a problem not easily solved. 'T is 
like a variegated woof, consisting of jB.ne, 
coarse, golden, and somber threads, closely 
interwoven together. 

To-day we ma}- walk where beauty 
seems to reign. iSTature speaks in her 
softest, clearest tones, v\'liicli is congenial 
with our tenderest, noblest feelings, 
strengthening and invigorating every 
new-born liope that seeks to dwell within. 
The earth beneath our feet is verdant and 
yielding; the sky above is azure and 
sunny. This is to-day, but it gives no as- 
surance that the morrow morn will dawn 
in glory and peace. Sliadows may e'en 
now be hovering behind that gold-tinted 
cloud, which we love so well to look 
upon ; and heaven's brightest gleams may 
indeed mark the path of the storm-cloud. 



156 DAY-DREAMS. 

Bat let us freely and gracioiislN- partake 
of all the sweets of life as they come, and 
at the same time be schooling the heart 
for the endurance and willing acceptance 
of all we deem the " bitter draughts." 

Though to-day we walk where beauty 
lingers, in flowery dells or shady groves, 
let us be mindful that ruirged steeps and 
craggy clifts arise beyond us. And these 
must surely be climbed, for there is no 
turning back in the great journey we have 
undertaken. The paths our feet jjress to- 
day will to-morrow lay afar behind, never 
to be trodden by us again. What our 
hands perform to-day can not be undone 
by them to-morrow. The language of our 
lips is uttered for all eternity, and will 
ever stand registered in indelible charac- 
ters to our everlasting glory and honor or 
condemnation and shame. O, that our 
lips may open only to the utterance of 
language commendable for its truth and 
kindly tones. Every word spoken in af- 
fection leaves a good impression some- 
where. 

We know not what pearls we are scat- 
tering abroad when we utter kind words ; 



DAY-DREAMS. 157 

and not one is lost, but all are garnered 
in, though we may know it not; and 
they will reach some burdened soul, act- 
ing as a balm, and shining there as a gem 
of beauty, ligliting it on to the ways of 
honor and uprightness. 

To every young person going out from 
the parental home, where he has known 
naught but love and truth, what dangers 
there are in store. 

If he is of a confiding nature, his trust 
may lead him into the many snares set 
for him ; for evil lurks behind the hedge- 
rows and in the sunny paths of pleasure. 

"What a pity that we should distrust 
any of God's created beings ! And yet 
philosophy teaches that this is essential. 
But let us not deem our world all decep- 
tion and cheat ; for many true and noble 
beings dwell thereon. And inasmuch as 
God has created us in His own image, 
we should strive each day to be more 
truthful, pure, and God-like. 

There is one gem mortals have been 
seeking for since the day when our "first 
parents" were driven from the flowery 
garden, out where grew thorns and 



158 DAY-DREAMS. 

briers. And that much desired boon we 
will never find while dwellers upon this 
sphere ; for, like the fountain of" immor- 
tal youth," it shines not this side of heav- 
en's gates. 

It is ti'ue happiness. The more we grasp 
after it, the farther off it seems. A sweet 
resignment to the Master's will comes 
nearer being the f/em^ than anght else. 
Some gain this through the pow'er of a 
true and holj religion. 

But most of earth's dw^ellers are mask- 
ed beings, of whom we know but little. 
We would not have the world know of 
all the desires and dissatisfactions that 
dwell within. Neither would the same 
willingly have lifted the veil that screens 
the many unsupplied wants and unreach- 
ed aims of their own. 

As we live to-day, others have lived in 
years long gone by. We are told that 
there is nothing new under the sun. Our 
thoughts have been the thoughts of oth- 
ers. Our desires are the same as some 
who have long since ceased to wish for 
or desire earthly blessings. The paths 
we tread have been trodden by many, 



DAY-DREAMS. 159 

man}'' beings, whose journey is ended. 
But we see their works, and they tell us 
whether or not they lived in vain. 

As wo hasten on, we give room for the 
vast multitude that is still coming. Let 
us pluck some of the flowers that bloom 
along the wayside, and scatter them in 
their pathway, and though they be with- 
ered, they '11 tell of those who lived not 
alone for self. 



EVEMNG SCEITES. 

Evening shades are gathering round ; 

Daytime's golden light has gone ; 
Feathery forms are flitting by, 

Spirits of the early dawn. 

Silver moonbeams shed a smile, 

Over sleeping valleys low ; 
Summer breezes softly whisper, 

As the boughs sway to-and-fro. 

"Where the birdlings safe are resting, 
Free from storm and tempest wild ; 

lie who guards them, sure will keep us, 
Nor forsake a trustinjr child. 



160 DAYDREAMS. 

Daj'time labors all are ended; 

The weary \a orker seeks his hearth, 
And the pe;icc that tlieie awaits him, 

Sweetest Messing of the earth. 

Mnsic floatsi upon tlie air, 

Born of a sonl all pore and free. 

May all thy life know joyful lays, 
And thy songs, of gladness ever be. 

Two little forms by tbeir bedside kneeling, 
Four little hands are clasped in prayer. 

As gentle whispers pass from lips, 
Of beings pure as angels fair. 

Golden ringlets, fall like sunbeams 
Adown their shoulders Avliite; 

Violet eyes are raised to Heaven ; 
Orbs as fair as morning's light. 

It seems the breezes whisper softer, 
As they fan the restless leaves 

Of the vine that shades the easement. 
And clings above to the drooping eaves. 

A mother's voice in low soft notes. 
Sweetly sings a lullaby 



DAY-DREAMS. 101 

To tlie cherub pillowed on her breast, 
While the evening hours so swiftly fly. 

The light goes out, and the vineclad cot 

Is wrapt in silence now ; 
Slumber's peaceful veil is dropped, 

And falls in silence o'er each brow. 



THE CROWNS WE WEAR. 

Many of earth's children wear crowns. 
Not such as rest above the proud features 
of the ruling monarch, or add a grandeur 
to the queen's fair beauty. But crowns 
placed by the wearer above his own 
brow. Brightly shine the crowns which 
deck the brows of some we know ! Do 
all see the dazzling light as we see it? 
Does it charm other e3'es as it charms 
our own ? I think it should. Ilapj)}- are 
they whom fate lias given a dwelling 
near where that light floods o'er, or e'en 
does faintl}' penetrate. 

Some may say : " I see no crown. I 
see a brow of beauty; a face of classic 



162 DAY-DREAMS. 

mold; a stately form ; but the crown is 
invisible to my view." Ah ! Ijliiid must 
such ones be. And, in truth, there are 
many who walk in hlindness here, l^ot 
because they are deprived of the bless- 
ing of sight ; but because they close 
tlieir eyes and walk in darkness, seeing 
no beauty, and stumbling o'er many 
rough places, wliere their feet should not 
wander. I fear the light of their coronet 
has grown dim, if ever one tliey pos- 
sessed. 

0, that each one would labor to pos- 
sess that regal diadem of life which all 
should be proud to own. It does not re- 
quire gold to form a purchase, but it does 
require labor. Aye ! and truth, and 
honor. 

How happy we feel when under the 
influence of some natures. They seem 
to carry a strange, sweet power, which 
dissipates every rising shadow. Their 
presence seems to banish every vain long- 
ing and sad discontent of life. Tkfy 
wear the crown ! 

Oh ! how dark life sometimes seems ! 
Every one knows something of gloomy 



DAY-DREAMS. 163 

clays, when every ray of hope seems to 
have vanished. Our most ambitious work 
lags, and loses its intciest. We stand, as 
it were, in the midst of a stormy sea, 
where great waves roll high, e'en most 
Washing us from our frail footing. Dark 
clouds gather o'er our heads, casting a 
gloom over all below. We cry out in 
despair, as our courage wanes and our 
strength becomes lessened. But no, we 
can not faint, for we feel the kindly sup- 
port of a willing hand, and hear whis- 
pers of a gentle voice, which acts as a 
balm, giving us strength to stand erect, 
and behold the clouds moving away, and 
bright rifts of sunshine entering in. We 
look to see the cause of the great change, 
and behold the crown of beauty before 
unseen ! 

Oh ! that we may all possess that 
which adds so much beauty, peace, and 
light to life. And at last, when the cur- 
tain is lifted which screens from view the 
world of glory and radiance, may we 
lay aside our earthly crowns, and receive 
one of everlasting lig/it. 



164 DAY-DREAMS. 



Gone are the beautiful Summer days. 
With their soft sweet breath, and flow- 
ers fair, 
That e'en yet lingered when the north 
wind came, 
And. laden with frost was the Autumn 
air. 

Gone are our 'roral gemmed beauties! 
They faded with the blush of the sum- 
mer-tide ! 
Their fallen heads are hidden now 

By a pure white nuuitle spread far and 
wide. 

The leafless trees stand grim and tall ; 

O, where 's their beauteous array, 
That shaded the brow of childhood fair 

Through all the golden day? 

Alas ! 't is now low lying ! 

Where their feet were wont to tread. 



DAY-DREAMS. 165 

Where with eager hands they strayed to 
pluck 
Violets bhie from their mossy bed. 

How drear to-day the spot 

Which then was calm, serene, and 
bright. 
I'll close my eyes to the sad, sad change, 

For I am grieved at the cruel blight. 

I miss the music of the babbling stream 
That danced and gleamed in the sun's 
bright ray; 

I miss the cheer of its merry voice 
Til is long and wintry day. 

There's a void in my life that can not be 
filled. 
For that I loved is banished far; 
And when I reach, it eludes my grasp, 
Yet gleams in the distance like a glim- 
mering star. 

Those we love have closed their eyes. 
And their lips are tightly sealed. 

They are sleeping ! sweetly sleeping ! 
But with dewy orbs we yield. 



166 DAY-DREAMS. 

Gone ! 0, whither have they gone ? 

Those who fuded from our sight. 
Yet their presence sweetly lingers, 

Like the snn's departing light. 

We tliink not of our loved ones, 
As with icy hands now crossed, 

And a pale white brow like marble, 
With all its beauty lost. 

But we give to earth her portion, 
And just Heaven claims her own. 

N^ow each soul, in raiment spotless, 
Chants sweet praises 'round the throne. 

l^ow we look where beauty lingers 

In the sunset of the west. 
And we think we see the gateway 

Where have entered the good and 
blest. 

And they ever beckon, follow^ 
Onward to the radiant shore ; 

To the world that knows no sorrow, 
Where the w^eary w^eep no more. 



DAY-DREAMS. 167 



AIR CASTLES. 



What frail things they are ! Beaiitifal, 
bright, and glittering ! Yet but a chill- 
ing breath will send them as a bubble 
floating awiiy through the air, until they 
are lost to view, or at once lay them in 
ruinous piles at our feet. 

Who is there who does not spend some 
part of his or her time in manufacturing 
these frail articles? And, 'tis well. 
Yes, how much better it is for us to look 
forward to a bright and happy future, 
which sweet hope prompts us to believe 
is in store for us, than to be forever fore- 
boding evil. 

It is seldom mortals reach the goal for 
which they aim ; and yet how wise in the 
Creator to enshroud the futnre in mys- 
tery. For who would have courage to 
battle through life, did we have our des- 
tinies laid out in programme before us? 
For, though life has many charms, there 
are more thorns than roses, and more 
clouds than sunshine. 



168 DAY-DREAMS. 

We are sonietiiiies sinful enough to 
think, for a moment only, "if we just 
had our destinies in our keeping, how 
happy we surely wouUl he." Poor mis- 
taken creatures ! If such were the case, 
we would he the most miserable beings 
under the sun. As it is, we often have 
occasion to thank our kind Parent that 
that for which we most wished we did 
not receive. 

Very often it seems that hap[>incss is 
within our grasp, wlien something trans- 
pires to lay waste all our plans. Oh ! 
how sad it then seems for us to submit to 
the will of Providence, and see our 
brightest dreams, our fondest hopes 
blasted. But, ere loui?, lio^ht comes to 
our vision, and we see just where we 
stood, and the danger which o'ershadow- 
ed us, but, in our blindness, \\q- saw not. 
How thankful we tlien feel that there is 
a Divine Being, who knows and plans all 
things. 

In everv life there is o-oino- on a great 
contention between the real and the 
ideal. The latter may conquer to day, 
but lo-morrow, the strenoth of the former 



DAY-DREAMS. 169 

will assert its power, Inyiug its rival low 
ill the (lust. 

Behold, a bright fairy following every 
being, pointing onward, beyond the ris- 
ing vapor, where, in great stateliness, 
stand bright castles, not reared with 
hands, but fashioned by dreaming spirits. 

Who are the castle builders? Look 
around you. Yon see many faces; some 
happy, some sad, some stern. Each tells 
its own stor}' ; yet it tells not all. Let us 
follow tlie guide that stands ready to di- 
rect us. Let us gaze while he lifts the 
curtain which veils so much delusive 
beauty. Behold them at work ! There 
are the young, the old, the rich, the poor, 
each with his magical wand touching the 
vapory clouds, which immediately assume 
many difterent forms. 

Grand structures rise up before us. 
Palaces with stately domes. We enter 
in where banquets are spread, where 
flowers in golden vases bloom, and fount- 
ains of gushing water play in the sun- 
light. But, lo, a chill breath comes from 
the north ! There is a mighty crash, and 
all lies in a ruined heap. The dream 



170 DAY-DEEAMS. 

has passed, and again we walk in paths 
where liealify's stern voice coniniands. 



A LOST YEAR. 

I met mild Spring as she tripped along, 
With flowing garments spread, out 
wide, 

Coverine: the flelds with verdure brio-ht. 
Which reached to the far hillside. 

She smiled a pleasant greeting. 
As I crossed her sunny path ; 

Then I wondered not that Winter had 
flown 
With his freezing, icy breath. 

I asked : " 0, tell me, blue-eyed Spring, 

What do you bring to me ? " 
I'm glad to welcome you again, 

Glad your pleasant smiles to see. 

" I bring the birds from sunny climes. 
Where they fled from snow and frost ; 

They have a guide through the pathless 
air, 
And no birdlins;' e'er is lost. 



DAY-DREAMS. ] 71 

" I softly whisper to the flowers, 

And up they spring in Held and grove ; 

The daisies white, and violets blue. 

Strengthened by my warmth and love. 

"I bring mild morns, and pleasant days, 

Go forth and sow thy seed ! 
That they may spiring in fertile soil, 

And supply thy every need." 

Tlien she hurried on with a quickened 
pace. 
For Summer had stepped on her trail, 
Which she gathered up and hastened 
away, 
Kor uttered a sigh or wail. 

Laughing Summer came rushing in, 
Scattering bright blossoms at my feet. 

Her hair flowed down in sunbeams 
bright. 
The nodding grass to meet. 

Her silvery laugh rang through the grove, 
Where a pleasant brook was babbling 
loud : 



172 DAY-DREAMS. 

Then a shadow iiassecl o'er lier radiant 
brow, 
I looked aud saw a rising cloud. 

Then the raindrops thickly fell, 
'Mid many a clustering vine, 

That clambered o'er the craggy steeps, 
Enticed by the bright sunshine. 

" I bring, I bring rich gifts to thee ! " 
Merrily sang the Summer glad, 

"But Autumn comes to claim mj' place, 
So I leave, though it makes thee sad." 

Then Autumn, in her gorgeous dress, 
Walked forth through wood and field, 

Laden with sheaves of golden grain. 
Of Summer's harvest, .a bountiful 
jdeld. 

She scattered the bundles far and wide, 
Where eager ones rushed forth to claim, 

But paused not when she reached my 
side. 
For no sheaf bore then my name. 

I opened not my lips to speak. 

As she passed with her mild, sad face, 



DAY-DREAMS. 173 

But a fierce cold breath from the oorth- 
ward blew, 
As blustering Winter took her place. 

He stole the flowers my hands had 
plucked, 

Lay every blushing beauty low, 
But over the hills and dreary fields. 

Threw a mantle of purest snow. 

I waited and watched as I stood alone, 
Till I heard the midnight chime 

Of many bells, proclaiming aloud 
The " Old Year's " fast^decline. 

I watched him pass the threshold. 
As his tresses back he tossed, 

And when I felt his last damp breath, 
I sighed for the year that was lost. 



YESTERDAY, TO-DAY, AND 
TO-MORROW. 

I plucked a stem from a wild rose-bush 
which grew in beauty by the wayside. 
Every blossom which our hands touch 



174 DAY-DREAMS. 

has a lesson to impart, if we but give 
heed to its low w^hispers. When I walk 
alone where flowers bloom, they hold 
sweet communion w-ith me, awakening 
thoughts that the language of animate 
beings can not awaken. Therefore, when 
I pUicked the stem from its mother bush, 
I was not surprised Vhen it spoke to me 
in a silent language. 

There were three — I can not say roses 
— growing side by side, for the petals of 
one were closed, and fast withering, while 
the next was full-blown, and when touched 
by my breath, the polen show^ered down, 
and lay like golden dust upon the green 
leaves. The last was but just bursting 
from its narrow confines, and blushed red 
as it opened its eyes to the many new 
scenes. 

" Yesterday, To-day, and To-morrow !" 
I thought, as I gazed upon my beauties ; 
for they seemed fit emblems of the same. 
The withered one seemed like the yast 
to-days, which we now call the j^ester- 
days of life. Its perfume seemed even 
sweeter than the fragrant breath of the 
others ; and, like the memories of what 



DAY-DREAMS. 175 

has been termed " the dead past," it still 
floated round the fading gem. 

The bright, full-blown rose was the 
present, to-day ; and the opening bud, to- 
morrow\ 

Yesterday, to-da}-, and to-morrow ! 

They go linked hand in hand, forming 
a long chain, the beginning of wbich is 
lost in the depth of centuries, where 
Time stands steadily pulling the line, 
and, as one link disappears, another 
comes in view. 

To-day we may call oui- own, but what 
assurance have we that the to-morrow, 
wbich we have beautifully drawn with 
the pencil of imagination, upon a filmy 
canvas, will ever be more to us than the 
bright ihusion it now is? 

We live not in to-day. 'T is true we 
are passing through it,, but mind and 
heart are equally divided between fond 
dreams of the past, and bright anticipa- 
tions of the future. To-day would be 
badly cheated, if she did not step out of 
the ring and stand in the well-worn 
path of the past, where we look upon 
her with admiration. 



176 DAT-DREAMS. 

We love to ponder over the works of 
past generations, and compare them with 
the works of the present day. We have 
a veneration for generations antecedent 
to our own. We feel toward them some- 
what as the child feels toward a parent 
or an elder iiulividi.al. We tliink of our 
country as it wafi a ceutur}' ago, and as it 
is to-day. What a vast work has been 
done! And -vve know it took brave 
hearts and industrious hands to perform 
the work essential to the ciiange. ITow 
shall we recompense for the peace, joy, 
and freedom w^e enjoy to-day dearly pur- 
chased by others. All we can do is to 
keep busy heart and hands ; and though 
to-day our works may seem as naught 
to us, they are not lost ; and, as the great 
wheel of time rolls round, the few shin- 
ing grains may become united, forming 
a nugget from which a generation may 
carve some wealth. 

Memory unfolds the scroll of the past, 
and sets out every deed before our view^ 

Time robs life of many charms, yet 
memorj' still clings to thenj, refusing to 
relinquish them to any destroying power. 



DAY-DREAMS. 177 

'Tis with prkle the mother watches 
her child creep from babyhood to boy- 
hood, step from boyhood to youth, and 
from youth to manhood. And 'tis with 
pride she listens to the eloquence of his 
voice, as it utters words of wisdom ; but 
they drown not the cliildish prattle, 
wliicli "she still enshrines within her 
heart. And she still loves to gaze upon 
the sweet, childish features, which mem- 
ory holds perfect. 

With some persons, the past is an il- 
luminated region, elevated to so great au 
extent as to cast a shade over the face of 
the present. We even cling closely to 
the memory of sorrow, which fell with a 
stinging blight, almost o'eri)Owering us 
at the time. 

We look eagerly toward the future, as 
if it were an undiscovered land of prom- 
ise, lying behind the hills, which shut 
out its brightness. 

The sun is receding behind the tree-tops. 
Shadows fall over woodland and plain. 
To-day gathers her trailing mantle, upon 
which To-morrow is e'en now treading, 
and steps upon the threshold of Yesterday 



178 DAY-DREAMS, 



TIME'S TABLETS. 



Time's tablets are written over in many 
quaint and curious characters, some of 
■which greatly puzzle the observer while 
he vainly strives to comprehend. Behold 
the hands that guide the quill which traces 
the lines of the sometimes rough, some- 
times smooth pages ! 

ITow a childish hand eagerly grasps it, 
and with bright fluid Avrites of sunshine 
and gladness. 'T is all he knows ; for the 
little vexations of childhood soon pass 
away and are forgotten. The page pre- 
sents a gleaming appearance, and we can 
easily turn to it by the gilding which 
masks its edges. Upon it we read of 
green fields, flowery dells, shady nooks, 
fairy bowers, and sunny paths. 

We turn the leaf, and our eye is greeted 
by another, whose brightness seems as a 
reflection of the first. But the page is 
more closely written, e'en the margin be- 
ing occupied; for j^outh's hand is impul- 
sive and youth's brain productive. Here 



DAY-DREAMS. 179 

we a'so read of bright paths, lofty and 
beautiful purposes; have hope described 
as a maiden with nzure eyes and golden 
tresses ; ambition as a brave and daring 
persontige, wlio conquers all obstacles. 
But here the fluid must have upset, for 
great dark blots hide the remaining char- 
acters, and with curious wonderings we 
turn to the next page, where manhood's 
steady hand has traced many facts and 
stern realities, and told of life as it is. 
Here we read the charter and title-deed 
of happiness. So also do we read the dis- 
appointments and sorrows which are man- 
kind's legacy. 

Age, witli a palsied hand, has written a 
review of all we have passed over, closing 
with a description of the glorious excel- 
lence of Christianity, the only true refuge. 



WORDS. 



There is power in Avords! The depth 
of language is fathomless ! The tone of 
the human voice, like the pleasant show- 



180 DAY-DREAMS. 

er, can refresh and brigliten, or, like the 
biting frost of Winter, can blight and lay 
low. The face tells us much of the char- 
acter of an individual, but the language 
tells more. We judge man by the com- 
panions he seeks, and we also judge him 
by his conversation. " Where your treas- 
ure is, there will be your heart also." And 
Avhere your thouglits are, you will try by 
words to lead others. The mind is like 
a vast garden, and the words and acts are 
the vegetation springing therefrom. If 
the soil be good, only good productions 
will be the consequence ; but if it be not 
good, weeds, thorns, and brambles will 
put forth and multiply into many. If 
the thoughts are pure, the language indi- 
cates such. 

JSTot every one possesses the talent for 
leading off in a brilliant conversation ; 
but if we possess a good heart and good 
common sense, we are capable of con- 
versing with and interesting the best. 

Sometimes we meet with persons who 
are, as an old proverb says, "Any way the 
wind blows." They seem to be always on 
their guard, fearing some word of theirs 



DAY-DREAMS. 181 

may displease. They strive to learn our 
taste, agreeing with us upon every point. 
In trying, by this means, to make them- 
selves very agreeable, they succeed in be- 
coming rery disagreeable. Ever}- one has 
his own true belief and opinion upon any 
subject that maj' come up, and 'tis braver 
to hold to that belief and defend that 
cause until circumstances turn the mind 
in another direction. And yet there are 
times when 't is better to withliold our 
opinion, for an old, old sa3'ing, " A still 
tongue maketh a wise head," has been 
proven true. But there are times when 
to keep still would seem coward!}-. Surely 
he who would stand b}' and hear an ab- 
sent friend wronged by untrue words, and 
speak not in defense of that friend, is a 
coward in every sense of the word. 

When we think of so many homeless, 
forsaken beings, who dwell here, to whom 
friends and kindness are strangers, and 
love is a power unknown; who receive 
only bitter words and cold rebuffs, we no 
longer wonder that there are so many 
sinful deeds being committed every day. 

How careful should we be that none 



182 DAY-DREAMS. 

but kind words escape our lips, Many 
bitter tears have been shed in solitude, 
caused to flow b}' nnkind words or acts 
from those held dearest and loved best. 

In moments of wrath or excitement, 
words have been spoken which were as a 
poison dart sinking into some heart, and 
leaving its sting forever there. Perhaps 
'twas one we h)ved best of all who re- 
ceived the wound which sad regret failed 
to heal. 

Harsh words wither and cast down, 
while kind words soothe and build up. 

Then scatter the jewels everywhere, 
That they may brightly glow, 

And lighten the way for weary ones; 
Those who naught but sorrow know. 

Scatter the jewels everywliere, 
The shadows they banish afar; 

And brighten life's darkest moments, 
Ay, gladden the drearest hour. 

Like "bread upon the water cast," 

Kind words are never lost; 
Thej' '11 return to thee after many days, 

Though e'en by tempests tossed. 



DAY-DREAMS. 183 



SHUT OUT. 

The gate went shut with a sudden slam, 
And left some standing in the shadows 
outside ; 

A moment before thej heedless seemed, 
While the gate was swiiio-ino; wide. 

Now eager hands try in vain to unclose, 
For the lock that holds is secure, 

And yields not to the anxious one, 
Who deems his grasp most sure. 

Yes, the gate went shut with a sudden 
slam, 
Leaving an echo which can ne'er be 
lost ; 
For it sank in souls that relinquish not, 
But value treasures at their own true 
cost. 

The gate went shut with a sudden slam. 
And left us standing in the shadows 
outside ; 



184 DAY-DREAMS. 

Though a moment before we heedless 
seemed, 
"While the gate was swinging wide. 

"We grieve for the blossoms that grow 
within, 
Where sunbeams play at morn and 
noon. 
The sunbeams from our ^Dath have fled, 
Because the gate was closed too soon. 

Faces are there that we love e'en more 
That the}^ 're now veiled from sight; 

And the bar that has fallen between our 
paths, 
Seems dark as the shades of night. 

With a sad unrest we pace to-and-fro, 
By the side of the shadowy wall, 

Which shuts so much of life joys out, 
As it stands so grim and tall. 

Glimpses we get through the trellised 
screen ; 
And we beckon for gleamings afar, 
Which seem for a moment within our 
grasp, 
But Fate cries out, " Debar !" 



DAY-DREAMS. 185 

The gate went shut with a sudden slam, 

And we stand alone to-day, 
And grieve for the cup of sweet content, 

Which from our lips was snatched 
away. 

There is a path which leads to joy ; 

Be brave then, heart, and never doubt; 
But foUoAV the beacon which brightly 
shines. 
And points to the gate, where the 
worthy are ne'er shut out. 



HOPE. 



Beautiful spirit hovering near ; 

Smiling so brightly to give mortals 

cheer ; 
Speaking so softly in tones full of love, 
Like echoes that come from far realms 

above. 

Clothed in a garment brighter than day. 
Scattering sunbeams along the dark way ; 



186 DAY-DREAMS. 

Lifting from weary ones despondency's 

cloud, 
Calming the life-storms that rage fierce 

and loud. 

Dropping bright garlands wherever we 

go; 

Giving power in life's conflict to con- 
quer each foe ; 

Though blindly through darkness to-dny 
we may grope, 

The morrow will brighten by the sun- 
shine of Hope. 



WAITING. 

I stand at the river's brink, 
And gaze o'er waters bright, 

That foam and bubble at my feet, 

And dance and gleam in the sun's fair 
light. 

I'm watching for ray ship to come. 

That sailed so long ago ; 
Sailed so proudl}- o'er seething foam, 

In Summer's brightest glow. 



DY-DREAMS. 187 

I lieard of the wealth in foreign climes, 
Where flowers bloom through all th' 
year, 
Where the glittering sands are flecked 
with gold, 
And diamonds, and crystals clear. 

Oh ! I longed to share of the boundless 
wealth, 

That my eyes had never seen ; 
And partake of joys the'd purchase sure, 

AVith their bright and glorious gleam. 

So I built me a castle high in air, 

0, 't was a structure grand, 
That towered above the loftiest trees ! 

But, alas! 't was built on sand. 

The tide came in and washed the shore, 
The sand rolled down 'neath waters 
deep ! 

There was a mighty crash ! I looked. 
And my castle lay in a ruined heap ! 

I grieved the loss for many a day, 
But friendly Hope again gave cheer, 

And a well-loved gleam I saw in her eye, 
As she pointed o'er the waters clear. 



188 DAY-DREAMS. 

So I've watched and waited till weary 
I 've grown, 

The shadows gather, and day is done ; 
My heart is heavy with waiting so long, 

And I think my ship will never come. 




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